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A 


GOLDEN INHERITANCE. 


BY • 


REESE ROCKWELL. 




< 


“ An inheritance incorruptible, and undeflled, and that fadeth not away.”— 

1 Peter 1. 4. 













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Copyright,- 1884, by 


PHILLIPS & HUNT, 


New York. 



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CONTENTS. 



PAGE 

I. Hopes Destroyed 5 

II. The Blossom Storm 16 

III. The Awakening 30 

IV. Questionings 41 

V. The Stirred Nest 52 

VI. Finding Her Niche 66 

VII. Mr. Dunbar’s Weakness i 9 

VIII. A Problem 90 

IX. Lulu 91 

X. Regrets 108 

XT. Tempted 116 

XII. Perplexed 124 

XIII. In October. 134 

XIV. King Philip 146 

XV. A Victory 159 

XVI. Trust 167 

XVII. Floy’s Birthday 182 

XVIII. “ The Swelling op Jordan ” 196 

XIX. Foolishness 209 

XX. Stolen Honey ' 221 


4 Contents. 

PAGE 

XXL An Opportunity 227 

XXII. Mark Gregory 238 

XXIII. Disenchanted 246 

XXIY. “.For Lottie’s Sake” 257 

XXV. The Dark Wing 266 

XXVI. Cobwebs 275 

XXVII. “That Little Slip” 285 

% 

XXVIII. Bitterness 294 

XXIX. Overcast 304 

XXX. Heart’s-ease 315 

XXXI. Golden Glimmers 324 

XXXII. Robin’s Inheritance 334 


A GOLDEN INHERITANCE. 


i. 


HOPES DESTROYED. 

“ All things are new : the buds, the leaves 
That gild the elm tree’s nodding crest, 
And even the nest beneath the eaves : 
There are no birds in last year’s nest.” 


NE, two, three. Only three weeks yet,” said 



\J Robin, a little gush of tenderness trilling 
through her sweet, happy voice, like the note of a 
forest bird. 

Lulu sighed. What a happy w r orld it was to 
Robin. She was like the day lilies ; she toiled not, 
neither did she spin, and yet Lulu was sure that even 
Solomon, in all his glory, never presented to the eye 
of any beholder, however partial, a picture of such 
pure loveliness as did this young, fresh Robin of the 
spring-time. Lulu looked again at the deep, rich 
brown of her hair and eyes, the faint bloom on her 
rounded cheek, and the strawberry sweetness of her 
curved lips, and concluded that never had there lived 
a maiden in all this wide world so greatly to be en- 
vied as this young sister of hers. All her life Robin 


6 


A Golden Inheritance. 


had been shielded from every thing that was hard, 
cold, or unpleasant. She had grown up like a veri- 
table robin-redbreast, living ever in a flush of blos- 
soms and blue skies, singing out her heart’s delight 
in life’s pure, sweet morning with never a thought 
that to-morrow’s sun might rise under clouds. And 
there had been no clouds in Robin’s life. 

“ Only sunshine. Perhaps it will always be so,” 
sighed Lulu, as she pushed back the fair hair from 
her heated temples and picked up her work again. 

That endless sewing ! How she hated every puff 
and ruffle and plait. 

“ What do people want of such things any way ? 
I’m sure if I could run up the hill and get some 
apple blossoms I’d have all the outward adorning I 
wanted,” she said, aloud. 

“Why don’t you go, then?” asked Robin, from 
her perch in the window-seat, turning her head on 
one side and looking at her sister with half-shut eyes 
as she spoke. 

“ Why don’t I ? Who would finish this skirt ? 
You, perhaps ?” 

Robin laughed good-naturedly, showing her pearls 
of teeth. 

“ I ? Mrs. Riley would never deign to wear it. I 
should get the knife plaiting on upside down and 
the bias folds criss-cross. I’m a good-for-nought, 
Lu. I might go and get the apple blossoms, 
though.” 


Hopes Destroyed. 


7 


“ Ho. I can live without them. I don’t want to 
steal any of God’s gifts. I’d love to be in the coun- 
try now.” 

“ What is the country like ? I’ve never been out- 
side the walls of this dusty town in my life. Are 
there loads of apple blossoms there, Lulu ? ” 

“ Yes, miles and miles of them. I spent a sum- 
mer at Uncle Harry’s farm, in Cherry ville, live years 
ago.” 

Robin’s bright eyes noted a rising flush, faint as the 
tint of a sea-shell, in her sister’s delicate cheek. 

“Well, go on. What happened ? Something out 
of the common, I’ll be bound, for you were mum as 
an owl when you came back in the fall. We could 
get nothing out of you. I was fifteen then, and wore 
short dresses, and braided my hair, and went to the 
high school. I wish I’d always stayed fifteen. Ho 
I don’t either, for then I’d never have come into my 
inheritance. Say, Lu, fifteen thousand isn’t to be 
despised now, is it? Dear old Aunt Robin paid 
me well for the mild infliction of her funny, pretty, 
old name. Only three weeks yet, and I’ll be a rich 
woman. It gives me rather a curious sensation just 
to think of it. I wonder how it will feel to realize 
it. Only three weeks to wait. Somehow they seem 
intolerably long now that they have grown so beauti- 
fully few.” 

“ A great deal may happen in three weeks,” said 
Lulu, quietly. 


8 


A Golden Inheeitance. 


“ Yes, or in three minutes for that matter, but I 
expect all my happenings will be good ones. I am 
going to do a world of good with that money. I’ll 
take you and mamma to the White Mountains, and 
Aunty Whipple shall have a new — Why, the post- 
man is stopping here. Is it possible that some one 
has been writing us a letter ! Our good things are 
coming already.” 

She danced out to meet the postman, and returned 
w r ith a yellow envelope, inscribed in a stiff, old- 
fashioned hand. 

“Mrs. Annie F. Holmes,” she read, holding it up 
curiously. “It’s postmarked ‘Woodstock, Mass.’ 
Uncle David lives there, but he never writes a let- 
ter. O well, it will have to wait till mamma comes. 
What things letters are to set one’s heart bouncing. 
How I was imagining all sorts of things. I didn’t 
know but it might be a proposal of marriage from 
some c courtier, tall and fair and gay,’ who had fallen 
in love with me or my fifteen thousand.” 

“ You will, doubtless, be the recipient of numerous 
favors of that kind when it becomes known that you 
are in possession of ever so small a fortune,” said 
Lulu, with a slight curl of her lip. 

“Yes, that is part of my good happenings. I shall 
get any amount of fun out of their proposals. Like 
the milkmaid of ancient times, I shall, with a toss of 
my head, refuse them all.” 

“ Take care, Kobin, don’t toss your head too high, 


Hopes Destroyed. 


9 


or, like that same immortal milkmaid, you may toss 
away alky our new-found hopes.” 

“Hot the slightest danger. I am not counting my 
chickens before they are hatched. My fortune has 
been waiting for me eighteen years, or nearly so. I 
shall be eighteen in three weeks, and an heiress. 
How old are you, Lulu ? ” 

“ Twenty-four,” said Lulu, shortly. 

“ How venerable you must feel. How eighteen 
looks immense to me. After all, it’s a great deal 
nicer being a little girl and wearing short dresses and 
long braids. I always looked well in braids. Will 
Everett used to say I was the beauty of the school.” 

“ There, there, Robin, don’t be silly. You’re vain 
enough. Don’t tell all the world. Hide it in your 
foolish heart,” said Lulu, biting her thread. 

“ I wouldn’t be jealous, sister mine,” smiled Robin, 
complacently. “ What’s beauty, any way? Hothing 
but. a fading flower. I attach no importance to it 
whatever. How if I had been fair like you and 
mamma — Whom do I look like, any way ? ” 

“ You are the picture of my twin brother, who died 
when he was ten years old,” said a lady, who had en- 
tered so quietly that neither Lulu or Robin had per- 
ceived her. 

The lady was small and fair, with silver-white hair 
lying in beautiful masses upon her low forehead. 
There was^ a wonderfully restful look upon her face, 
like that of one who has outlived life, with its woes 


10 


A Golden Inheritance. 


and worries and disappointments, and is waiting 
quietly, in serene composure, after tlie toil and lieat 
of tlie day for tlie swift incoming of the cool, still 
night. 

“ Why, mamma, what a wee bit of a mousie you 
are for quiet footsteps,” said Eobin, springing down 
from her seat and running to take away her hat and 
shawl. 

Eobin never spoke her love for her mother, but 
Mrs. Holmes said there was an expression in the 
brown eyes when they looked into hers which always 
made her heart warm! 

“ When my little brother died,” went on the 
mother, smoothing Eobin’s brown hair, caressingly, 
“ I was heart-broken. For weeks and months I 
could not smile, or sing, or play with the other chil- 
dren, and as the years went by, the healing years 
which always lull aching hearts to some degree of 
rest, though they brought me a whole world of good 
things, that great longing for my twin brother always 
remained unsatisfied until God sent you, Eobin ; then 
I was comforted, for it was as if he had returned to 
my arms when you first looked at me with the clear 
brown eyes that I remembered so well.” 

Eobin’s cheeks flushed with pleasure. 

“ I am so glad,” she said, in a hushed voice. 

Mrs. Holmes turned to take up her sewing, and 
as she did so her eyes fell upon the letter, which 
still lay upon the table. She opened it carefully. 


Hopes Destroyed. 


11 


Letters were rare occurrences in this little home. 
It was pleasant to hold it in her hand a moment 
wondering. 

The two girls, watching their mother’s face cu- 
riously as she ran her eyes down the page, saw it 
flush deeply, then pale ; but no one spoke until she, 
having read the letter twice, crossed over to where 
Eobin still lolled lazily in the window-seat. Lifting 
the girl’s face very gently, she kissed the ripe lips 
thrice, placed the letter in her hands, and hastily 
withdrew. 

“ That’s singular,” smiled Eobin. “ Has some one 
really been proposing for me ? ” 

She opened the letter and read the words aloud in 
a slow, bewildered way. 

w My Dear Sister : I write to inform you that 
my property is gone, every cent of it, and with it — 
God forgive me and help the child ! — all the little 
fortune that has been waiting for your Eobin. I 
ventured the whole thing in a speculation, and it has 
failed. I cannot write any more to-day. I am sick — • 
miserable. I do not ask you to forgive me. My. 
foolishness is unpardonable. I will write and explain 
when I am able. 

“ Your miserable brother, 

“ David Atkinson.” 


The paper dropped from Eobin’s hand. 


12 


A Golden Inheritance. 


“ Poor Uncle David ! ” slie said. 

“ Poor Uncle David ! ” repeated Lulu, in astonish- 
ment. “ I should say, poor Eobin Holmes.” 

The least perceptible shadow of a frown passed 
over Eobin’ s sunny face like a white cloud across a 
summer sky, and vanished. 

“Poor Eobin Holmes, indeed,” she said, soberly; 
“but poor Eobin Holmes is young and strong and 
able. Uncle David has passed his threescore and 
ten. He is old and sick and unhappy, and I pity 
him.” 

“I do not. His foolishness is, as he says, unpar- 
donable.” 

Eobin got up slowly and wandered out into the 
warm spring sunshine. A verse which the minister 
had read yesterday in church bad struck her forcibly. 
It came back to her now with startling distinctness, 
as if some one had spoken it in her ear : “ Thou de- 
stroyest the hope of man.” 

Had God done it? Ho, but he had permitted it. 
Eobin had loved God ever since she was four years 
old. She believed he could not make a mistake. 
Why, then, had he allowed this great disappointment 
to meet her upon the very threshold of her exist- 
ence? For it was a disappointment, more chilling, 
more crushing than any one could imagine ; more so. 
than any one ever would imagine but God. 

Eobin’s father had died when she was a mere 
baby. He was a physician with a good practice, and 


Hopes Destroyed. 


13 


during liis life-time his little family had known noth- 
ing of want or trouble. But his sudden death left 
them with little of this world’s goods, save the roof 
that sheltered them. Always careless and improvi- 
dent, living as the birds do in the sunshine of to- 
day, with no thought for the rainy to-morrow, he 
had made no provision for his family in case of his 
death, and consequently, after his temporal affairs 
were settled up, his cherished young wife found her- 
self cast helpless upon the sea of life with her two 
young children, and only her own frail hands to keep 
the billows of poverty from washing them under. 
Too independent to accept the cordially proffered 
hospitality of her brothers, Mrs. Holmes had sup- 
ported herself and children by sewing. When Lulu 
arrived at the age of sixteen she had developed great 
ability in that direction, and thereby had lifted much 
of the heavy burden from the mother’s overtaxed 
shoulders; but Robin, always bright, thoughtless, 
and free-hearted, had from her infancy been excluded 
from all life’s roughness from the fact that she was 
an heiress, and would have none of these things to 
contend with. When she was only six months old, 
a maiden aunt of her father’s, who had come from 
her Green Mountain home to spend a few weeks in 
the city, had taken an unaccountable fancy to the 
brown-eyed baby, and suddenly one day she an- 
nounced to Dr. Holmes, that if he would bestow her 
name upon the little one, she should become her 


14 


A Golden Inheritance. 


heiress. The gentleman smiled indulgently, sup- 
posing the old lady’s property to consist of the old, 
low-roofed cottage where she had spent her days, and 
a few hundreds which, with it, she had inherited 
from her father. 

But somehow from that day the baby’s name grew 
into Bobin. Naturally enough, too, for no other 
name could have been more adapted to her cunning 
ways and chirping bird-like voice. Two years after, 
when the tired-out old aunt laid down her life-bur- 
den, her worldly possessions were found to amount 
to the sum of fifteen thousand dollars, which were 
bequeathed by her will to Bobin Holmes, to be held 
in trust for her by her mother’s brother, David At- 
kinson, until she had reached her eighteenth year. 

“ A wonderful woman ! ” the neighborhood said. 
How she ever managed to accumulate such a sum of 
money as that was a mystery. But Aunt Bobin had 
raked a little together here, and a little more there ; 
made good investments, speculated a little, and added 
a trifle to her store every year of her life, until at 
length she was richer than even she herself was 
aware of. 

“ It would have been a grand tiling for me,” said 
Bobin Holmes to-day, as she sat down under the 
burden of her destroyed hopes. “ I believe I could 
have put Aunt Bobin’s money to good account. 
But, then, ‘ there’s no use crying over spilled milk.’ I 
must think about the next thing.” 


Hopes Destroyed. 


15 


She got up slowly and walked in. Lulu was fold- 
ing up her work with a weary sigh, and a harder set 
to her lips than usual. The mother’s face was pale 
and troubled. 

“My dear,” she began, as she caught sight of 
Robin in the door- way, “I cannot comfort you. 
It is—” 

But Robin’s own clear laugh interrupted her. 

“ Don’t worry your dear heart, mother,” she said ; 
44 I’ve only come into my inheritance three weeks 
ahead of time, that is all.” 

14 Your inheritance?” said Lulu, looking curiously 
into the laughing face. 

44 Yes ; an inheritance of hard work,” said Robin, 
still laughing. 


16 


A Golden Inheritance. 


n. 

THE BLOSSOM STOEM. 

“ 0 thou child of many prayers, 

Life hath quicksands, life hath snares, 

Care and age come, unawares.” 

R OBIN HOLMES laughed for other people. 

Her tears she kept for herself. Therefore, not- 
withstanding her bravery and liglit-heartedness in 
the presence of her mother and sister, when she 
had retired to the solitude of her own room for the 
night she shed not a few bitter tears, and she awoke 
in the dull gray light of the following morning with 
a strange, heavy weight pressing her spirit down 
relentlessly. 

“ What is it ? ” she questioned, rubbing her sleepy 
eyes, for this young girl was not accustomed to work- 
ing under clouds. All her mornings were songs. 
This dull sense of pain was a new experience. 

“ O ! ” she said, aloud, as the dim phantom of her 
perished hope took shape and sternly confronted her. 
“ O 1” and, shutting her eyes again, she buried her 
face in the pillow. She had no wish to see any one 
to-day. It was better to lie still and dream. Hence- 
forth her enjoyment must consist in dreams. 

“I must travel in my dreams; I must have 


The Blossom Storm. 


IT 


beautiful dresses and jewels in my dreams, and books 
and music and flowers and paintings. O flow much 
I have lost through one man’s foolishness ! ” 

“ Kobin ! ” It was Lulu’s voice calling, sharply, 
with a ring of impatience in the usually calm tones. 

“Yes,” sighed Kobin, as she arose, and began 
slowly to comb out her thick-tangled hair. 

“I do wish you'd hurry,” called Lulu again. 
“Seems to me you must be slept out. It’s seven 
o’clock.” 

“ Slept out ! I feel as if I should never be slept 
out again,” said Kobin, listlessly, as she descended 
the stairs. 

Lulu was bending over the kitchen fire toasting 
bread, with an unusual color in her cheeks. 

“ Where’s mother ? ” asked Robin. 

“ In bed,” said her sister, shortly. 

“ In bed ! Is she sick \ ” 

“Yes, Robin, I wish you would see to getting 
breakfast upon the table. I have those two dresses 
to finish to day, and it’s getting fearfully late.” 

But heedless Kobin was already out of hearing. 
Softly she opened the door of her mother’s room, 
and looked in. Mrs. Holmes was lying very still. 
Kobin started at the pallor of her face against the 
pillow. Drawing nearer she laid her hand lightly 
upon her forehead. The touch aroused the mother, 
and she opened a pair of wan, blue eyes. 

“ Ah, dear, is it you ? ” she said, smiling. 

2 


18 A Golden Inheritance. 

“ How sick are you, mother ? ” asked Robin, anx^ 
iously. 

“ O, I’m not sick, only tired. Don’t bother about 
me, child.” The faint eyes closed again, and almost 
instantly she was asleep. 

Robin smoothed the silver hair away from the 
white forehead, dropped the shade lower over the 
window, and went out. 

“ Lu, has mother ever been sick like this before ? ” 
she asked, going back to the kitchen. 

“ Is it possible you are anxious about any thing ? ” 
said her sister ; “ mother has been a victim to sick 
headaches all her life. It is nothing unusual. I’ve 
known her to suffer with it many a time.” 

“ But she seems so stupid.” 

* “ You would be stupid, probably, if you had a dull 
pain in your head, and a deathly sensation of nausea 
every time you stirred or spoke. I know all about 
sick headache. Fortunately it is not dangerous. 
How I do wish you would come and eat your break- 
fast, and then I will have to trouble you to clear the 
things away, for I shall have my hands more than 
full the rest of the day.” 

Robin sat down and ate with a listless, preoccupied 
air. After the meal was finished she dismissed Lulu 
and her sewing, and attacked the dish-washing vig- 
orously. She wanted to be busy to-day. It w T as not 
pleasant to loll in the window and gaze up into the 
sky. There was no blue sky to-day. 


The Blossom Stoem. 19 

“No blue anywhere, it’s all gray,” sighed Bobin, as 
she swept off the steps and hung up her broom. 

“ What shall I do next ? ” she asked, bending over 
her sister’s chair. “ Can I help you ? ” 

Lulu looked at her in some surprise. 

“ Can a leopard change his spots ? ” she asked, 
laughing. “ Can Bobin Holmes become practical ? 
Ho, child, you can do nothing to help me, unless you 
care to read aloud. There’s the new library book.” 

Bobin’s eyes brightened. She had quite forgotten 
the new book. She was a fine reader, and an inter- 
ested one. Once absorbed in her book she needed 
no other pastime to while the dull gray hours away. 
At eleven o’clock Lulu interrupted her. 

“ I believe you would read all day without stop- 
ping. I wonder how mother is.” 

“ 0, how forgetful we are ! ” cried Bobin, starting 
up and flinging her book aside. 

Mrs. Holmes still lay apparently asleep with the 
same strange pallor on her calm face. 

“ Mother, dear,” said Bobin, bending over her. 

She opened her eyes, smiled and closed them again 
as she had before. 

“ Don’t you want to get up ? ” asked Bobin, softly. 

“No, child, I’m just resting beautifully. Don’t 
-worry. Just go out and shut the door.” 

Bobin stole out to join her sister again, with a 
troubled and anxious face. 

“ Lu, what makes her so stupid ? she looks as if 


20 A Golden Inherit ance. 

she had not stirred, scarcely breathed, since morn- 
ing” 

“ What did she say ? ” asked Lulu. 

“ She said she was resting beautifully and sent me 
out.” 

“ Well, do as she says. A good rest is, probably, 
just what she needs. She has been working too hard 
this spring. Poor mother ! I wish we had money for 
her sake. I was hoping so much for her when you 
should come into possession of yours.” 

Robin held her hand over her eyes a moment. 
That was the root of all the bitterness. Lulu had 
touched the sore spot. Her love for her mother was 
the very spring of her ardent young existence. To 
lift her from her present life of toil and hardship and 
struggle into one of ease, luxury, and freedom, had 
been Robin’s day-dream ever since she was old 
enough to have day-dreams. And so had this long- 
ing grown with her growth, that of late she fairly 
begrudged the years their three hundred and sixty-five 
days, lamenting that they limped so slowly by still 
holding the coveted treasure, wherewith she might 
crown the dear mother-life, just out of her reach. 
And now this dashing away of her cup of happiness 
just as she was about to raise it to her lips ! But it 
must be endured. 

“ I’ll do it yet ! ” cried Robin, suddenly, her brown 
eyes opening wide with a flash of resolution. 

“ Do what \ ” 


The Blossom Stokm. 21 

“ Give mamma the rest she needs. I’ll do her 
work after this.” 

“ Robin Holmes, yon always did live in the clouds. 
I’d rather see more and hear less of your wonderful 
doings. But since you are going to do mamma’s 
work, suppose you begin by getting dinner. Every 
thing is ready. All you have to do is to put it on the 
table.” 

Robin, tired of sitting still so long, set about her 
work with alacrity, singing as she tripped lightly 
from pantry to cellar. 

“It would not be such a bad world after all,” 
quoted Robin, “ if mother would only get up.” 

But mother did not get up. Every half hour 
during the afternoon anxious Robin stole on tiptoe to 
the bedroom door to find her still lying in the same 
deep slee]). 

“ I don’t like her looks,” she said, shaking her head 
dubiously, after one of these visits. “ Just think, 
Lulu, she has slept nearly twenty-four hours.” 

“ Do stop your croaking, can’t you ? ” said Lulu, 
in nervous impatience. “How do you know how 
many hours she slept through the night, or if she 
slept at all ? She’ll be all right to-morrow.” 

“ But, Lu, I wish you would come and look at her,” 
persisted Robin. 

“ I should think you did enough looking at her. 
I dare say it annoys her every time that bedroom 
door squeaks. I wish you wouldn’t keep teazing me 


22 


A Golden Inheritance. 


about it. T must get tliis dress done. It is to be 
sent for at six. Tliere ! I have used up the last bit of 
blue satin. Bobin, you will have to go down to At- 
water’s and get me another yard. Be sure you match 
the shade exactly. I hardly dare trust you, but I can’t 
take the time to go myself. Now hurry along. It’s 
four o’clock — Atwater’s, remember.” 

Bobin sprang up, glad of a legitimate opportunity 
of getting into the open air once more. 

“ Do put on your water-proof, don’t you see it’s 
raining? Would you go all the way down town 
with nothing around you? What would become of 
you, Bobin Holmes, if your mother should die, I can- 
not imagine ! You have no more sense than a baby.” 

“ If your mother should die ! ” The words struck 
a strange chill to Bobin’s heart as she threaded her 
way slowly through the damp streets. What w T ould 
her life be without her mother ? 

“ Why God couldn’t do such a thing ! ” She almost 
spoke the sentence, pausing suddenly and looking up 
into the cloudy sky. Why not? God could send 
this cold storm to strip the lovely pink and white 
blossoms from the trees. .God could let Uncle 
David’s foolishness spoil her hopes of a sunny future. 
Why, therefore, could not God take the tender and 
beautiful light out of her home ? 

“ I will not harbor such an idea for another mo. 
ment,” said Bobin,- resolutely starting ahead with 
rapid strides. 


The Blossom Storm. 


23 


She reached the store, matched her satin, and 
started on her homeward way in some haste. What 
if her mother should never rally from that heavy 
stupor ? 

“ Robin Holmes, I do wish you would stop a mo- 
ment.” 

The plaintive, childish tones arrested the hurrying 
footsteps. For once in her life Robin was passing 
Judge Fairfax’s elegant home without being aware of 
the fact. She very suddenly became aware of it, 
however, as she turned and encountered a very fair, 
very young face looking down at her from among 
the lace curtains. 

“ Come in a little while, can you not ? ” 

Robin shook her head but came nearer the open 
window. 

The long-lashed, violet eyes which looked into 
her own were inexpressibly sad. 

The doctor from Hew York was here yesterday,” 
she said. 

“ Well?” 

“ He says there is no possibility of a cure. I shall 
be lame all my life. A cripple, think of it, Robin, 
a cripple ! ” 

Robin’s eyes drooped before the intense gaze. This 
was a sorrow beneath which her own sank into insig- 
nificance. 

“ Floy, it is too bad,” was all that she could say. 

“It is horrible. Unendurable. To think that a 


24 


A Golden Inheritance. 


fall from a horse should result in life-long misery. 
If I had been barn so it would have been less 
dreadful.” 

Robin looked again at the fair picture framed in 
the window. The beautiful head, with crimped hair 
falling in a golden shower over daintily clothed 
shoulders ; the rich lace clasped by a bar of pearl at 
the white slender throat ; the gold bands on the tiny 
wrists and the diamond solitaire burning on the lovely 
little hand ; all these things were entrancing to Rob- 
in’s frivolous, girlish heart. She looked past this 
picture to its fair background of elegance and luxury : 
the rare paintings, the statuary, the books, the grand 
piano. 

“ Florence Fairfax ! ” she burst out, impulsively, 
“ how can you complain of any thing when you have 
every thing to enjoy ! ” 

a Why I haven’t. I would be willing to change 
places with the veriest beggar in the street. That 
child, for instance,” pointing to a ragged girl who 
went dashing past them on nimble feet. “ I envy all 
such children.” 

“ You wouldn’t, if you could look into their homes. 
You haven’t tried poverty, yet, Flo.” 

“ FTo. Sometimes I wish I could. Mamma says it 
would have been better if I had been poor, for then 
I would not have been exposed to the humiliation 
which must meet me every-where in my present 
position.” 


The Blossom Stoem. 


25 


“Your mother ought to be ashamed of herself!” 
exclaimed Robin, in her impetuous, unwise way. 
44 What humiliation can there possibly be in the fact 
that you have met with an accident which has maimed 
you for life ? Suppose you had been killed, would 
that have been less humiliating ? ” 

44 It would have been far preferable,” sighed Flor- 
ence ; 44 any thing but going about on crutches, limp- 
ing through life.” » 

“ Nonsense ! You are not going to limp. You’ll 
outstep us all in the long run. Keep up a brave 
heart, Floy. You will come into green meadows 
by and by. 4 It is better farther on,’ you know.” 

44 How Robin keeps singing, 4 Cheer-up, cheer- up, 
clieer-up,’ ” quoted Florence from her First Reader. 
44 You are my sunshine. I wish you would come in 
out of the rain.” 

44 No, I cannot ; I’ve stayed too long now. What 
a dismal day it is ! ” 

44 Yes. Do you know, Robin, some one said this 
morning, 4 It is the blossom storm. After this we’ll 
have pleasant weather,’ and somehow the thought 
struck me that perhaps this is only the blossom 
storm that is sweeping over me, it has come just 
in my blossom time and carried away all my 
happy hopes. After it is over there may be pleasant 
weather.” 

44 Not the least doubt of it,” said Robin, smiling at 
the pretty conceit. There, I forgot that Lulu is wait- 


26 A Golden Inheritance. 

ing for the satin. Good-bye, Floy, look for brighter 
days soon.” 

“The blossom storm!” soliloquized Eobin, as she 
-sped on through the wet, slippery street ; “ it may be 
gathering over my head as well. These blossom 
storms come to more lives than we think, perhaps. 
Poor Floy, I hope her storm will not increase. I 
wonder if pleasant weather is a sure successor.” 

Lulu was not in her place at the window when she 
arrived at home. An old woman, bent and wrinkled, 
met her in the hall. She put her finger upon her 
lips to enjoin silence. 

“ What is it ? ” asked Eobin, in a frightened 
whisper. 

“Your mother’s very sick, child, don’t make a 
noise. She might ’a laid there and died if I had not 
happened in. What nurses you two girls is ! I’ve 
give Lulu sich a sitten down as she’ll be likely to 
remember one spell. She said she hadn’t been in to 
see her since mornin’. She seemed to be sleepin’ 
good, and she thought it best not to disturb her. 
Land ! shows what sense girls have got, as if a woman 
would be sleepin’ all day with such a color as that in 
her face and nothin’ the matter ! ” 

“Lulu has been very busy all day,” murmured 
Eobin, apologetically. 

“That’s jist the pint. That vain woman must 
have her dresses, I spose, if your mother had laid 
there and died. That’s the way of the world.” 


The Blossom Stoem. 


27 


“ Aunty Whipple, do tell me what is the matter with 
my mother,” pleaded Robin, catching the old wom- 
an’s sleeve as she was turning away to the sick room. 

“ I can’t tell you nothin’ about it. It looks to me 
like a kind of partial paralysis. She don’t seem to 
suffer none, and she’s herself when she’s woke up ; 
but she can’t move ; as near as I can tell, she can’t move 
hand nor foot. I sent right away for Dr. Hunt. 
He haint come yet. If he aint here ’fore long I’ll 
send for another doctor. It’s a crying shame, the 
way that blessed woman has been neglected ! ” 

Unable to bear any more, and feeling that if she 
stayed there another moment she should catch hold of 
Aunty Whipple and shake her, Robin rushed off to her 
mother’s room. Lulu, now thoroughly alarmed, was 
sitting by the bedside looking anxiously into the 
pallid face of the sleeper. 

“Lu Holmes, you’re a wicked girl!” burst out 
Robin. “ I have been telling you all day that it 
was something more than a sick headache, but you 
wouldn’t listen.” 

Lulu did not raise her head or answer. No one 
could reproach her more bitterly than she was re- 
proaching herself. 

“ Now, Robin, you go right out,” ordered Auntie 
Whipple, peremptorily, as she entered the door. “ I 
would as lief have a volcano in a sick-room. Hark ! 
there’s the door-bell. It’s the doctor at last. You 
go and let him in.” 


28 


A Golden Inheritance. 


It was a very anxious pair of eyes that were raised 
to Dr. Hunt’s kindly gray ones in the door- way. 
Somehow Robin’s eyes always struck a responsive, 
chord in the good doctor’s heart, something as her 
father’s had done in the old college days. He gave 
her one of his pleasant smiles as he stepped noise- 
lessly on to the sick-room. 

“ He will not get out of this house without telling 
me what is the matter with my mother,” said Robin, 
nodding her head decidedly, as she stationed herself 
in the door-way. 

It was a long time before he came out ; hours and 
hours it seemed to Robin in her chilly, uncomfortable 
position, and her heart-aching suspense. When he 
appeared at length it was with an air of deep absorp- 
tion. He almost stumbled over the slight figure 
crouching on the door-sill. 

Stealing a furtive glance at his face, Robin saw 
that it was very grave. 

“ Dr. Hunt,” she said, springing up and confront- 
ing him, “ tell me what it is ! ” 

The doctor drew back an instant, then taking both 
her hands in his, he gazed down at the young face 
with eyes that were full of pity and sympathy. 

“ My child,” he said, tenderly, “ may God comfort 
yon!” 

Robin grasped his hand convulsively. 

“That is the way people talk when people are 
dying,” she gasped. 


The Blossom Storm. 29 

“ Well, Bobin, what if it is so ? What is death to 
your mother but going to her Beloved ? ” 

“ But we don’t want her to go ! She must not 
go ! Can’t you do something ? ” 

He did not answer her, but held her hands in a 
closer clasp. 

“ Dr. Hunt, you cannot mean that my mother will 
die ? ” 

Her face was so sharp with pain that it rang out 
harshly. 

“ There is no use in concealing from you a fact 
which must force itself upon you in a few hours. 
Your mother may live through the night. When 
she awakes again, it will be in the arms of her 
Beloved.” 

Bobin looked at him a moment, doubtfully ; then, 
gathering the terrible truth from his pitying eyes, 
she snatched her hands away and ran out into the 
windy, stormy night. Down on the wet ground she 
went moaning out her bitter grief. 

“ O, the blossom storm ! the blossom storm ! It is 
taking away all my bloom. There will never be 
pleasant weather again; only the terrible, terrible 
storm ! ” 


30 


A Golden Inheritances. 


III. 


THE AWAKENING. 


u Get courage, soul ! nor hold thy strength in vain, 
In hope o’ercome the steeps God set for thee, 

For past the Alpine summits of great pain 


Lieth thine Italy.” 


<( UNTY" WHIPPLE” was the best nurse for 



A miles around. When her practiced eye had 
first fallen upon the pallid face of Mrs. Holmes, she 
knew that she was very ill; sick unto death, it 
might be ; still, when Hr. Hunt had told her, in his 
firm, quiet tones, that the frail life had already drifted 
out toward the great ocean of eternity, far beyond 
the reach of human aid, she staggered as if from a 


blow. 


She had known and loved Mrs. Holmes from her 
earliest girlhood. Eirst in the capacity of a servant, 
then in that of a housekeeper, she had lived in her 
father’s family for many years, and so attached had 
she become to this one daughter of the house, that 
at her marriage she had abandoned her useful and 
honored position, and gone with the young lady to 
her new home, that with motherly care and watch- 
fulness she might shield her, as far as possible, from 
the worries and annoyances incident to a newly-mar- 


The Awakening-. 


31 


ried life. Content in lier humble sphere to minister 
.with her abrupt kindliness to her beloved young lady, 
she remained with her simply as a servant, until 
Dr. Holmes, discovering her rare abilities as a nurse, 
saw fit to exalt her to a position of great usefulness 
among his- patients. Accordingly a small cottage 
just across the street was rented for her use, to which 
she repaired at such short intervals in her busy 
life as she was permitted to lodge under her own 
roof -tree. 

Notwithstanding the change in her circumstances, 
and the many demands upon her time and sympa- 
thy, Mrs. Holmes was still as the apple of her eye. 
Watching over her with the same earnest solicitude 
as of old she had perceived in her, during the past 
six months, a certain hollowness of cheek and 
brightness of eye over which she brooded with 
much anxiety in secret. She was fully aware that 
her health was rapidly declining, and that her phys- 
ical force was insufficient to resist disease ; still, be- 
fore this sudden communication of Dr. Hunt’s, she 
stood confounded. 

The faithful old heart was rudely torn and bleeds 
ing to-night. She gazed through scalding tears upon 
the beloved features over which the shadows of death 
were fast settling. 

“ O, Jesus, take her gently,” pleaded the ach- 
ing heart, as she smoothed the pillows and raised 
the poor head higher, meeting ever, as the patient 


32 A Golden Inheritance. 

aroused for an instant from her death-like stupor, 
with the same happy smile. 

“ She is going as a bride to meet the Bridegroom,” 
muttered Aunty Whipple. 

She stood a moment at the west window, looking 
far out into the cloudy twilight, wondering, as we all 
do in the presence of death, where that happy soul 
was drifting ; puzzling, as the wisest of earth must 
ever puzzle, over the awful mystery. 

But Aunty Whipple, gazing with wet eyes into 
the somber dusk, and seeking to penetrate the solemn 
mist of the dread unknown, suddenly caught sight of 
something which brought her back to the real world. 
It was that of a crouching figure down at the garden 
gate. 

“ I declare, if there aint that child sittin’ out there 
flat on the ground in this rain,” she muttered, hurry- 
ing to the door. 

“ Robin, Robin Holmes, come in this minute ! ” 

The sharp tones aroused the girl from the stupor 
of her grief. Accustomed from her earliest infancy 
to obey Aunty Whipple, she arose slowly and walked 
hopelessly in. 

“You ought to be whipped!” exclaimed the old 
woman, severely. “ As if we hadn’t trouble enough 
without your lying out there such a night as this 
ketchin’ your death o’ cold ! How go and get on 
dry clothes this minute, and then eat your supper 
and go to bed.” 


The Awakening. 


33 


Eobin made an attempt to do as she was com- 
manded, not eating, however, but making a slight 
pretense of so doing. Then she crept wretchedly 
into her mother’s room. Lulu still bent over the 
bed, awe-struck and trembling. Eobin, in the midst 
of all her own suffering, was conscious of a strong 
throb of sympathy for her sister. She drew near 
and laid her hand upon the cold, clasped fingers, but 
Lulu motioned her impatiently away. 

“ Now, Eobin,” said Aunty Whipple, authorita- 
tively, “ you go right to bed. There’s no use of your 
hangin’ about here all night. ’Taint good to have 
too many people in a sick-room.” 

But Eobin’s lips closed decidedly, and her head 
took the obstinate set which Aunty Whipple knew 
well of old. When Eobin was in this mood com- 
mands and entreaties were alike useless. So the old 
nurse contented herself by drawing a lounge inside 
the door, and placing blankets and pillows upon it. 

“ When you begin to get sleepy lay down there,” 
she said, shortly. 

But Eobin crouched down at the foot of the bed, 
gazing at her mother’s face, her brown eyes strained 
and tearless. 

“ O if she would only rouse for one little moment 
and speak to me once before she goes away into that 
dim, silent land, where we can never hear her voice 
again,” the girl’s heart was moaning. 

Ah, that terrible watch at the death-bed of Our 
3 


34 


A Golden Iniiebitance. 


loved ones ! Ah, the silent, solemn vigil which some- 
time in our lives each one of us must keep, stilling 
our own heart’s cry that it may not disturb the ear 
already dulled to mortal sounds ; bending with tear- 
dimmed eyes to catch some faint responsive beam from 
those over which the films of death are fast gather- 
ing; straining our ears with pitiful eagerness for 
one little word to assure us that all is well with the 
passing soul, but in vain ! It is seldom that dying 
lips unclose to the most anxious questionings. As it 
came, so the soul passes in silence ; silence so unut- 
terable that oftentimes the most intense watcher fails 
to comprehend at what moment the light, mysterious 
boundary line between time and eternity is passed. 
Ah, it is the testimony of a life that must satisfy our 
pained hearts in that hour. Well for us who, look- 
ing into the still faces of our beloved dead, can be- 
hold, through our bitter rain of tears, the golden bow 
of God's promise ‘shining on the farther sky. Well 
for us who can rest our burdened souls on the rock 
of a sure hope of their safe passage out of this troub- 
lesome sea into the calm haven of the land unclouded. 
W ell for us if the lives of our lost ones which have 
slipped out of our sight forever, like autumn leaves 
that perish, were evidences that they walked with God, 
as dear children, looking forward with steadfast eyes 
to the rest that remaineth, and that their death is 
only a falling asleep in his arms. 

But Robin, watching this precious mother-life 


Tiie Awakening. 


35 


ebb away, had no thought of this. To her the fact 
that her mother had been all her life a true disciple of 
Christ, following him with unwearied footsteps through 
dark and light, up the rugged mountain steep of pain, 
or through the green meadows of peace, brought no 
comfort. She was only thinking, selfishly, of her 
own great misery, of the dear mother-love which 
had wrapped all her life about with warmth and 
blessedness, which was slipping away forever. She 
remembered how — why it was only last night — just 
as she was dropping to sleep, the love-lit face, with its 
silver crown, had bent over her, and she had caught 
the words of a whispered prayer. 

“ Why, there will be no one to pray for me,” 
sobbed the girl. 

And Lulu ? Ah, her cross was heavier than her 
young sister had any conception of. For Lulu 
Holmes knew that she had cost this loving heart 
more pangs than any other creature. Memory, 
stern, relentless, was going back in a rapid review 
over the long years of childhood and girlhood, bring- 
ing up reminiscence after reminiscence of thought- 
lessness and unkindness. 

“ Heartlessness,” she said to herself, harshly. 

“ O Louise ! Louise ! you will break my heart ! ” 
her mother had said once, and the agonized tones 
came ringing into Lulu’s ears to-night with terrible 
reproach. True, that was years ago. 

“'No one could have been more exemplary than I 


36 


A Golden Inheritance. 


have been in all my conduct for the past four years,” 
pleaded the daughter’s aching heart. 

Yes, but then — ah, where were the little tender- 
nesses, the loving words, the sweet, small courtesies 
after which this mother’s heart had yearned so sorely. 
Little acts of thoughtfulness, little words of good 
cheer and encouragement which might have made 
her earth an Eden, her home a rest and delight. 

“ I have worked very hard all these years,” went 
on the troubled heart ; “I have saved her more than 
half the care and labor which must have fallen other- 
wise upon her.” 

Well, that was praiseworthy and pleasant to reflect 
upon, but while she was considering the important 
question of what shall we eat, and what shall we 
drink, and wherewithal shall we be clothed, why 
had she not been mindful as well of that unspoken 
longing of the gentle soul for love and sympathy ! 

She recalled whole days which they had spent 
together at their sewing, with scarely a word passing 
between them. While she might have beguiled the 
many hours by pleasant conversation, she had sat in 
sullen silence, nursing an old grief which she would 
not permit to die out of her heart. All attempts 
upon the mother’s part to draw her out of herself 
and her wretchedness she had met with cold rebuffs. 
Poor, proud heart, it must suffer in silence, it would 
neither bend nor break ; but sometimes the chilling 
reserve had well-nigh broken the mother’s heart. 


The Awakening. 


37 


And Lulu saw it all to-niglit. 0, if she could only 
live them over again — the cruel years, with their 
crushing weight of pain — she would be willing, she 
thought, to bear it again — go through all the struggle 
and torment if she might only regain her lost privi- 
lege of making her mother’s pathway light as it 
wound downward to the grave. 

But it was too late now, and, spent and weary, the 
sweet soul must venture out on its unknown voyage 
uncheered and unhelped by the loving-kindness which 
this child of her care so longed to bestow, now that 
she stood face to face with the dread reality that her 
mother must die. 

Aunty Whipple, moving noiselessly about, intent 
only upon ministering for the last time upon her be- 
loved mistress, caught the distressed look upon the 
daughter’s face, but she spoke no word of conso- 
lation. 

“Let her think it out,” she muttered. “ She’s 
carved more than one line in this precious forehead, 
and turned a good many of these gold hairs silver 
white. She ought to suffer, and she ought to repent. 
She can’t repent enough, I’m a thinkin’. Such a 
mother as she’s been slightin’ all her life ! I guess 
may be she’ll begin to realize it when she’s lost 
her.” 

The long hours dragged wearily by ; the still, 
still hours, unbroken save by the sound of the heav- 
ily falling rain. Bobin never, in all her after life, 


38 


A Golden Inheritance. 


listened to the sound of heavy, hard rain without a 
return of the old pangs and a living over of that 
dreadful night. 

After midnight a slight restlessness was apparent 
in the pale sleeper. Robin hailed it as a sign of 
returning consciousness. The doctor might be mis- 
taken after all. Such things had occurred before. 

“ She is certainly reviving,” said the girl, with a 
thrill of joy in her voice. 

The old nurse smiled pityingly. Youth is so hope- 
ful, so pitifully hopeful. 

“ Go and lie down, Robin,” she said. “ I will call 
you if there is any change.” 

“ If she wakes up,” said Robin, recalling the doc- 
tor’s words with a shudder ; “ if she wakes up for 
the littlest moment, Aunty Whipple, you must call 
me at once. I shall not sleep : but I am very 
tired.” 

She threw herself upon the lounge with a sigh of 
weariness. 

“ I must not close my eyes even for an instant,” 
she said. 

But the healthy young nature was not to be thus 
defrauded of its rights. No sooner had her head 
touched the pillow than she was asleep. 

Aunty Whipple threw a quilt over her with a sniff 
of something like contempt. 

“Rot sleep, indeed! I’d as soon trust a month- 
old baby to keep awake. Well, she’ll need her rest, 


The Awakening. 


39 


poor child ! ” she added, more compassionately, as she 
pushed the brown hair away from the hot forehead 
and arranged the pillow more comfortably. Aunty 
Whipple never told any one how dear this brown- 
eyed child had always been to her ; but then and 
there, looking down at the flushed, sleeping face, 
she pledged herself to care for her with a mother’s 
watchfulness as long as she was permitted to care for 
any earthly thing. 

At flve o’clock Robin was awakened by the touch 
of a cold hand upon her own. She sprang up, look- 
ing about her in bewilderment. It was Lulu who 
stood at her side, her white face whiter in the gray, 
stormy light of the morning, her blue eyes heavy 
with weeping. 

“ What is it ? ” asked Robin, in a startled whisper. 

“ Mother ! She is dying ! ” 

With a low cry Robin sprang past her sister at 
the bedside. 

The gentle eyes, which had been her heaven all 
the long, bright years of her young life, were rolled 
up now and set. 

“ She is waking up, ” moaned Robin with white 
lips. 

“ Mother,” she cried out, as the solemn group at 
the bedside parted to make room for her, “you are 
not going without saying good-bye ! ” 

Something in the agonized tone struck and caught 
the ear of the dying mother. There was a faint 


40 


A Golden Inheritance. 


smile, and the stiffening lips moved. Bending close, 
with hushed breathing, they caught the faintly uttered 
words, “ ‘ when I awake, I am still with thee ; ’ ” and 
then quietly the pale hands clasped themselves to- 
gether, their work all done, and a sudden illumination 
of joy inexpressible shone in the dimmed eyes like a 
sunflash and was gone. After that the awful, awful 
stillness ! 

The doctor took his finger from the still pulse and 
walked to the "window. 

Lulu still knelt at the bedside, her head bowed in 
the dread presence of the grim messenger. 

Aunty Whipple’s hard hand was laid gently over 
the closing eyes. 

“ Asleep in Jesus,” she said, in solemn tones. 

“No, she is awake,” whispered Bobin, touching 
for an instant the dead forehead, out of which the 
wrinkles all seemed to have been smoothed away, 
“ in the bosom of her Beloved.” 


Questionings. 


41 


IY. 

QUESTIONINGS. 

“ Strange, strange for thee and me, 

Sadly afar; 

Thou safe beyond, above, 

I ’neath the star. 

Thou where flowers deathless spring, 

I where they fade ; 

Thou in God’s paradise, 

I ’ mid the shade.” 

A PAIR of young eyes were looking at the stars as 
one by one they came out, brilliant and still in 
the far-away night sky — the beautiful, relentless 
stars, which never cease their shining, though hearts 
may break and graves may close, though joys perish 
to dust and the hopes of a life-time go out in dark- 
ness. Still they look down, with the same cold 
pitiless gaze ; whether the eyes lifted to meet them be 
asparkle with joy, or tear-laden and dim. $ 

The brown eyes, gazing up into the infinite mead- 
ows, from the small window casement, to-night, were 
full of hot angry tears. 

“ Forget-me-nots of the angels, indeed ! ” mused 
Robin ; “ as if the angels, in the lovely gardens of 
heaven, ever remembered us poor mortals. What a 
wretched old world it is, in spite of its beauty ! Why 
one week ago, only one little week ago, I was per- 


42 


A Golden Inheritance. 


fectly happy. I had every thing to anticipate. This 
was going to be the happiest summer in my life ; and 
now — 0 mother! mother! I wonder if you ever 
think of your poor Robin in the bright home where 
they say you have gone. What is it ? where is it ? 
any way. O the mystery, the mystery ! ” 

There was a strange sound, as of slow uncertain 
footsteps, outside the door, then it was pushed softly 
open and a slight figure, in white, glided into the 
room. A little thrill of superstitious fear ran 
through Robin’s veins for an instant, the next she 
arose and held out both hands with a smile of 
welcome. 

“I must confess, Flo, you frightened me,” she 
said. “I have been so nervous and miserable since all 
these strange things have happened, and you looked 
so slight and ethereal and moved so noiselessly — ” 

“ Noiselessly ! ” echoed the lame girl, with an accent 
of bitterness in her voice. “ I can never move noise- 
lessly again with this” pointing to her crutch. 
u Robin, this is my cross, and I must carry it all my 
life. Other people get rid of their crosses some time. 
I must be burdened with mine to the shore of the 
dark river.” 

“ Don’t, Floy, don’t,” said Robin, drawing her hand 
caressingly over the little white fingers ; “ don’t talk 
so, or you will make me out of patience with God.” 

Floy drew back, shocked and frightened. 

“ Why, Robin Holmes, what strange things you 


Questionings. 


43 


say ! But there, what a miserable comforter I am ! 
I came here to-night just to offer you my sympathy 
and condolence, and this is how I begin ! I would 
have come before, but I’ve been away, and I couldn’t 
come in the day-time ; I couldn’t have people see 
me walking even from the carriage to the door with 
this , you know,” she added in a whisper, placing her 
hand upon her crutch. 

“ Florence Fairfax, you are too morbidly sensitive ! 
Don’t you ever expect to go anywhere in daylight 
again ? ” 

“ I don’t know. Perhaps it will wear away in the 
course of years, this dreadfulness ; but just now I 
cannot bear public gaze.” 

“ Poor little Flo!” said Robin, smoothing the golden 
hair, caressingly. 

“ There ! that’s the way it always goes. I came to 
sympathize with you, and instead, it is you who are 
sympathizing with me. I am so selfish ; it seems to 
me that no sorrow can be compared to mine.” 

“ And it seems to me that no sorrow can be com- 
pared to mine,” broke out Robin. “ I’ve lost every 
thing. Even my money is gone.” 

“ What, not your Aunt Robin’s legacy ! ” 

“ Yes, gone, every cent of it. Uucle David lost 
it all in a foolish investment.” 

“ But is there no possibility, no — ” 

“ FTo, nothing,” said Robin, decidedly. “ It’s gone, 
but what of it ? Why this last overwhelming sorrow 


44 A Golden Inheritance. 

lias swept away all thoughts of that little one, like 
leaves before a torrent. What would the whole 
world be to me without my mother ? ” 

Florence was silent for some moments. 

“ Robin,” she said, at length, speaking quietly, but 
with some anxiety in her voice, “ what will you do 
now ? ” 

“ What will I do ? I’m sure I don’t know. Go to 
work, I suppose.” 

“ What kind of work ? What can you do ?” 

“ Why I haven’t thought yet. Sew, I suppose, or 
teach. I have a good education enough, but mamma 
would have objected to my taking a position in a 
public school, I suppose. Lulu was determined to do 
it once, and she wouldn’t let her. I might teach 
music, though.” 

“ Ho, you shall not. The idea of your musical 
talent being put to such a use as that ! Why, child, 
in less than a year you would be playing by machin- 
ery. It always takes all the music out of one’s own 
soul, the effort to beat it into other heads.” 

“ Well, I don’t know as it matters,” sighed Robin. 
“ Mother used to be proud of my gift, but there’s no 
one to be proud of me any more. O, Floy, it is the 
hardest thing to lay away out of our sight those who 
have loved and cherished us all our lives, knowing 
that their places must always be vacant in our hearts 
and homes, and we shall never hear them speak again 
until we, too, have been changed; and who knows what 


Questionings. 


45 


that change may be ! Possibly we may never know 
them at all when we meet again in that strange, 
strange country. Floy, I don’t want to go to heaven 
if I cannot know my mother.” 

“ I suppose you ought not to say that,” said 
Florence, hesitatingly. “ Christians, or those who 
understand these things, would say that a desire to 
gain heaven simply to reach our loved ones again 
was merely a selfish longing ; that the one supreme 
desire should be for the presence and companion- 
ship of God. Isn’t there a verse somewhere, ‘I shall 
be satisfied when I awake in- thy likeness V I suppose 
we shall be so perfectly satisfied with the Saviour 
that we will have no longing unfulfilled. Our love 
for earthly friends will all be swallowed up in this 
greater love.” 

“ Mine will not,” said Eobin, hastily. “ I might 
come to love God best, but I must love my mother as 
long as there is the faintest shadow of my old heart 
left.” 

“ But, Eobin, you know there will not be any of the 
old heart left. If flesh and blood cannot inherit the 
kingdom of heaven, neither can earthly loves and 
hopes. This old nature must die with the body. 
When the soul enters the new life it must be changed.” ^ 

Eobin shook her head, smiling sadly. 

“ That sort of reasoning may be logical and orthodox, 
but it does not convince me. There will be some- 
thing of Eobin Holmes in me through all time and 


46 


A Golden Inheritance. 


all eternity, or I shall cease to be entirely. If I have 
any individuality at all, it must be sufficient to enable 
me to know myself. And I firmly believe that spirit 
must recognize spirit in that land, wherever it be.” 

“Well, w T e might sit here discussing the matter 
until the end of time and get no nearer the truth, I 
suppose,” sighed Florence. “After all, we must take 
the whole thing on trust. We will know it all some 
time, and until then we must wait.” 

Yes, we must wait, gazing up into heaven with 
strained eyes, hoping, it may be, with the unreason- 
ableness of yearning hearts, to catch some faint, 
parting glimpse of our lost ones from the cloud which 
receives them out of our sight, until at length, disap- 
pointed and heart-sick, we turn back to earth again, 
taking up the burden of life without them, while we 
hush our sobbing hearts to rest on the promise of a 
meeting somewhere, in some better life. 

“ Florence, are you a Christian ?” asked Bobin, in a 
constrained voice. 

“ No ; I used to think I might be some time, but 
since God has laid this heavy cross upon me he cannot 
love me.” 

“ I don’t know about that,” said Bobin, doubtfully, 
feeling that this sort of reasoning was not altogether 
doctrinal. “ Mother used to say God sent hard things 
to us for discipline.” 

“Yes, I suppose so. If it were only for a little 
while I could accept it as discipline ; but just think of 


Questionings. 


47 


the years and years. O, Eobin ! ” The childish voice, 
was sharp with pain. “ I am only sixteen years old ; 
I may live to be eighty.” 

Eobin did not speak. She was thinking of the 
blossom storm. How ruthlessly it had swept over 
poor little Floy ! 

“Eobin,” said the girl, suddenly bringing her eyes 
down from the stars, “ I want you to come and live 
with me.” 

“ What do you mean ? ” 

“ What I say. You are all alone in the world, and 
I want you to come to help me to endure life. You 
can be what I would have been if my wings had not 
been clipped. Mamma wants a daughter to shine in 
society, to wear beautiful dresses and jewels, to sing 
sweetly, and to say bright and happy things. You 
can just till the place better than I ever could have 
done. Nothing could please mamma better now, since 
she is so sadly disappointed in me. She has been 
looking forward to my 6 coming out ’ ever since I was 
born. Wont you come, Eobin ? ” 

“ Florence, you don’t know what you are asking.” 

“ Y es, I do. I have been thinking about it all day. 
You are all alone.” 

“ You forget my sister.” 

“ O, Lulu. Poor, proud, silent Lulu ! She would 
never miss you out of her life. She is not capable 
of loving any one.” 

“ Would you have me leave her all alone in the 


48 


A Golden Inheritance. 


world, working niglit and day to support herself, 
while I was flittering away my existence among the 
flowers of life like a foolish butterfly ? ” 

“ You can’t help her any, and she will not be alone. 
Aunty Whipple will stay and take care of her, will 
she not % ” 

“ I don’t know ; but I do know that 1 will never 
leave my only sister to struggle on alone while I 
sit down in the lap of luxury. Don’t tempt me, 
Floy.” 

“ Do you care so much for Lulu as that ? I always 
had an idea that you two did not assimilate, some- 
how.” 

“ She is my sister,” said Robin, quietly. 

“ Then, you will not come ? O, Robin, you have 
no idea what a disappointment it is to me. I fairly 
prayed over it last night. My prayers are never 
answered.” 

“ If there is any thing in my power to do that will 
make you a whit happier, I will do it gladly,” said 
Robin, earnestly. “ You don’t know how I love you, 
Floy.” 

“Thank you. I shall always remember that. I 
wish your sister appreciated you one half as much 
as I do. She is sterner and colder than ever now. 
Why she seems to be wrapped in a mantle of ice.” 

“Poor Lu ! sh<3 feels more deeply than any one. 
knows. Sometimes I think there is something in 
her life that we have never seen. They say every 


Questionings. 49 

one Las a silent side. Perhaps she lives in her 
silence.” 

“ Perhaps her blossom storm swept away all her 
sweetness. It often does. She looks as if some cold, 
cruel hand had struck all the loveliness out of her 
face.” 

“Mother used to say it was because she would 
bear her own burdens instead of rolling them off 
upon God.” 

“ I suppose we all do that, more or less. I don’t 
see how we are to help it. I cannot roll my burden 
off, because it will not b,e rolled off. It hangs on in 
spite of my most earnest efforts. But I am not bear- 
ing it willingly. Pobin, if you know of any way 
in which I can get rid of it, I wish you would tell 
me.” 

“O, I can’t tell you. I have never thought of 
burdens ; I never had any to bear until within these 
last six days. At first I fell down under the weight 
of my burden, determined never to rise. Now I am 
just beginning to stagger about. If there is any way 
for me to be happy again, you may be sure I will 
find it out. I certainly shall never cultivate misery. 
Mother’s rule used to be, 4 Look out, not in.’ She 
said people would get rid of half their troubles if 
they would only get in the habit of living out of 
themselves. I don’t see how any one can ; but mother 
went through a great deal of trouble in her life-time, 

and somehow she managed to keep a sweet, contented 

4 


50 A Golden Inheritance. 

look in her eyes through it all. She must have found 
out the way.” 

“I am afraid I never shall,” said Florence, dis- 
mally, rising, and drawing her rich cloak about 
her. “ I must go, Eobin. Eemember, if I cannot 
have you all the time, I am to have you half the 
time.” 

“You shall have all my idle moments, be sure of 
that, Floy ; you have helped me out of some of my 
difficulties. It is something to know that I am of 
the slighest value to any one in the world.” 

“You will always have that knowledge while I 
live. Good-night.” 

Eobin stood at the gate, watching her as she en- 
tered the handsome carriage, sank into the luxurious 
cushions, and was driven swiftly away in the star- 
light. 

“Poor clip- winged girlie!” said Eobin. “Every 
thing to enjoy and no heart for any thing. One little 
year ago she was the prettiest, sprightliest, and fleet- 
est of foot among us. * The lovely, golden-haired 
little princess,’ the people called her. How they 
sigh out their pitying words, and kindly turn their 
' eyes away to save her the annoyance of a curious 
glance.” 

Lulu stood in the door-way, looking moodily out 
into the fragrant night. 

“ That girl sleeps upon a bed of lilies,” she said, 
enviously. 


Questionings. 51 

“Do you think so? She considers it a bed of 
thorns,” said Kobin, absently. 

“ Nobody is satisfied in this world.” 

“ No, it is too disappointing. I was satisfied once. 
I will never be again.” 

It is not surprising that these afflicted ones were dis- 
appointed and dissatisfied. They had not found the 
only source of comfort and happiness. They had 
yet to learn that God above can lift up the down- 
trodden spirit, and that he has strange ways of disci- 
plining the soul to fit it for its great life-work. 


52 


A Golden Inheritance. 


Y. 


THE STIRRED NEST. 

u Hard ! Well, what of that ? 

Didst fancy life was but one summer holiday, 

With lessons none to learn, and naught but play ? ” 

HE “ next thing ” was becoming a serious matter 



X to Robin. She passed nights and days of anx- 
ious thought upon the subject, arriving no nearer 
a conclusion after all her meditations. She made 
two or three vigorous attempts at sewing, but upon 
each occasion, after her long, wearisome hours of 
labor, Lulu had quietly ripped out the work and 
done it over. 

“ If you are determined to be busy, Robin, please 
to confine yourself to the house work and leave me 
uninterrupted time for sewing. You will never 
make a seamstress if you try a life-time. It requires 
a patience which you do- not possess.” 

So Robin attacked the housekeeping department 
with the same degree of energy ; but Aunty "Whip- 
ple, who had taken up her abode with them since 
the death of their mother, usually sent her out of the 
kitchen with the abrupt declaration that she made 
more work than she did. 

And thus poor Robin, tired and discouraged, 


The Stieeed Nest. 


53 


watched the sun go down each evening with the 
same bitter feeling that she was of no use in the 
world. But one morning an inspiration seized her. 
She w T as combing her hair before the glass in her 
little room when the new resolution came to her. 
The comb fell from her hand, and, leaning forward, 
she confronted her own soul, which looked out at her 
from the startled, eager brown eyes in the mirror, as 
she gazed into them. 

“ Why, I’ll just do it ! ” she said, aloud, and, seiz- 
ing the comb again, she hastily arranged the bright 
mass of hair in a shining coil about her head, arrayed 
herself for the street, and went down stairs with 
quick, decided footsteps. 

“ Where are you going at this time of the morn- 
ing ? ” asked Lulu, looking up from her endless sew- 
ing at the vision of glowing cheeks and eager eyes 
under the shadow of a drooping, black feather. 

“To seek my fortune,” replied her sister, with a 
laugh which had the ring of energy in its brightness. 

“ What do you mean ? ” 

“ That I am going out, as the poor boys and girls 
in my story-books used to do, to seek for a pot of 
gold at the end of the rainbow.” 

“ Yes, that’s just about it,” said Lulu, biting her 
thread contemptuously; “about as near as you will 
ever come to any thing practical or serviceable. You 
were born to be a butterfly, and you may as well flut- 
ter away among the flowers. It is all you’ll ever do, 


54 A Golden Inheritance. 

any way. You will get through lome way, such poor 
helpless souls always do,” 

Robin could not muster up a laugh this time. 
Hurt and wounded, and feeling that the tears which 
were rising would overflow her eyes in another min- 
ute, she turned abruptly and went out— out into the 
hot, dusty streets to seek her fortune. The sister, 
looking from her window-seat, sighed wearily, as she 
watched the slight, girlish figure, in its black dress, 
flitting out of her sight. O, if it were only in her 
power to grant the child the freedom for which she 
w r as so sadly pining. Poor little feet ! they were all 
unused to the roughness of life’s highway. Mother 
had kept the stones out of the way, but there was no 
one to do it now. 

“ I have no time,” thought Lulu. “ But then mother 
always found time.” 

“Well, it did no good,” went on Lulu’s heart, 
apologetically. “ She has to face the enemy now, 
like the rest of us, and she is all unfitted for it.” 

On through the hot, busy street went Robin, eager 
and ambitious, until she halted at length before a 
stately edifice of brown stone. Then her heart failed 
her. It required more courage than she had thought 
to mount the steps and ring the bell ; but she did it 
with quickened pulses. 

The servant w T ho answered the ring observed that 
the young lady was slightly flushed, and that her 
voice trembled a little. 


The Stlrked Nest. 


55 


“ She has just lost her mother, poor thing,” thought 
the girl, compassionately, as she went to summon her 
mistress. 

Mrs. Dunbar, sweeping languidly into the room, in 
her silken morning-robe, greeted the young girl af- 
fectionately. This lady had been her mother’s 
trusted and life-long friend, and to her Robin had 
come in her perplexity, as the one most likely to help 
her. So absorbed was she in her subject that she 
waited for no preliminaries, but plunged at once into 
the object of her visit. 

“ Mrs. Dunbar,” she said, the flush deepening in 
her cheeks, “ I am looking for something to do.” 

“ Something to do ! ” echoed the lady, in a tone of 
surprise. “Why, you certainly can And enough to 
do ; every body can. No one need be idle in this 
world.” 

“ But I am ; very idle. I want to earn money.” 

“ Money ! Excuse me, my dear. I thought, at 
least I always understood, that you were abundantly, 
I may say handsomely, provided for in that respect, 
or will be when you come of age. Haven’t you 
patience to wait for the time ? ” 

“The time will never come, Mrs. Dunbar. My 
inheritance has failed.” 

“ You cannot mean it ! How did it happen ? ” 

In a few terse words Robin gave the requested 
information. 

“ What inexcusable folly ! ” exclaimed Mrs. Dun- 


56 


A Golden Inheritance. 


bar. “ I should think a man of your uncle’s age 
might have had better sense.” 

“ He did what he considered for my best interest,” 
said Robin, shortly. 

She was becoming very tired of this constant cry- 
ing over spilled milk. 

“ Well,” said Mrs. Dunbar, after a pause, “ it will 
make a great difference in your life. Have you any 
plans ? ” 

“ I have none. Lulu will continue at dress-making. 
Mrs. Whipple will remain with us and take charge 
of the housekeeping, and I must look out for my- 
self.” 

“ Have you thought of any thing ? ” 

66 1 could teach music. I have had the best of in- 
struction. Mamma made every sacrifice, often, I am 
afraid, of her personal comfort, that she might culti- 
vate what she was pleased to call my talent. How I 
would be glad to turn it to some account. I started 
out this morning for the purpose of procuring a class 
in music, if possible. Will you let me have your lit- 
tle girls, Mrs. Dunbar ? ” 

Mrs. Dunbar gave a little cough of embarrassment. 

“ Really, my dear, I dislike to refuse you, and, yet 
I do not see how I can do otherwise. My children 
are at present under the instruction, of Professor 
Atherton, and making the most astonishing progress. 
A change of teachers now might prove damaging, 
even though the teacher was equally able. 1 could 


The Stirred Nest. 


57 


hardly, therefore, subject them to the test at this 
very early stage of their musical experience. I am 
very sorry, however. If you had come first I should 
have looked upon it as a most admirable arrange- 
ment, but now I really must consider my children’s 
interests first.” 

“ O most certainly ! ” interrupted Eobin, hastily. 
“ If I had known that they were pupils of Professor 
Atherton’s I should never have thought of applying 
for them. He is acknowledged to be the musical 
authority of Burlington. I have certainly no idea of 
supplanting him. I thought I might be able to ob- 
tain a few very young pupils. Perhaps you would 
be willing to assist me by using your influence among 
your friends ? ” 

“Well, my dear,” said Mrs. Dunbar, laying her 
jeweled hand upon the small one incased in black 
kid, which was beating a nervous tattoo upon her 
marble-topped table, “ as a true friend, I would ad- 
vise you to abandon the scheme. The profession is 
overcrowded here as everywhere, and a young girl, 
unknown and inexperienced, would succeed but 
poorly in an undertaking of that kind. To make it 
an object you would need to secure at least twenty 
pupils, and that you would find an impossibility, even 
in a place of this size, where there have been so many 
before you, gleaning the field so thoroughly.” 

“ What am I to do, then ? ” asked Eobin, stoically ; 
“ I cannot starve.” 


58 A Golden Inheritance. 

“ There is no necessity. There are a thousand 
ways in which you can help your sister.” 

“ But she does not want my help. She rips out 
my deformed stitches faster than I can put them in ; 
and as for the housework, Auntie Whipple prefers to 
monopolize that. I don’t see how I can possibly help 
Lulu.” 

“Well, my dear,” said the lady, smiling, as people 
are apt to smile upon youthful ambitions when they 
regard them from the calm height of middle age, 
“go home and be contented and your work will 
come to you. Girls with faces like yours usually slip 
into homes of their own before they are fairly grown 
up.” 

Robin’s lips curled contemptuously. 

“ Mrs. Dunbar, I beg your pardon. I am not pa- 
tient. I never could sit down, Micawber-like, and 
wait for something to turn up.” 

“ But you must cultivate patience, Robin. It really 
does not look well nor quite lady-like in a young 
girl to be running about among strangers looking 
for employment. Public women are never admired. 
It is the modest home-girls who are sought after. 
ISTow, if it were a necessity for you to support 
yourself — ” 

“It certainly is, Mrs. Dunbar. Can you not see 
that it is ! ” cried Robin, vehemently. “ Can I be 
dependent upon the hard earnings of my sister, who 
is far more delicate and less able than I ? I neither 


The Stirred Nest. 


59 


can nor will,” slie added, emphatically, rising to go. 
“ If there is nothing else for me to do, I may be able 
to find a position as clerk in some store, or servant in 
somebody’s kitchen.” 

“ There, there, child,” said Mrs. Dunbar, laying 
her hand upon Robin’s arm, entreatingly ; “ do noth- 
ing rashly, I beg of you. Remember your mother’s 
wishes in all things. She was a lady in every re- 
spect, and such she would have her daughters.” 

“ And such they will be,” said Robin, looking into 
the lady’s eyes with a straightforward, honest gaze. 
“ I presume, if you were to analyze the characters 
and lives of many of your servants and shop girls, 
you would find as much of the element of true re- 
finement as appears often in those of people who are 
occupying the highest positions.” 

“ Certainly ; but at the same time there are pro- 
prieties to be observed.” 

“ I shall remember them,” said Robin, quietly. 
“ Good-morning, Mrs. Dunbar.” 

“ I will think the matter over,” said the lady, fol- 
lowing her to the door ; u perhaps I can devise some 
way to help you.” 

“ Thank you,” said Robin, running down the steps. 

“ She is such an impulsive, headstrong, unreasona- 
ble girl,” said Mrs. Dunbar, uneasily, as she returned 
to her drawing-room. “ There is no knowing what 
she will do. I must keep a sort of watch over her 
for her dear mother’s sake.” 


60 


A Golden Inheritance. 


Eobin meanwhile went on her way filled with re- 
bellious thoughts. 

“ If I had been Robert , instead of Eobin, a desire 
to be independent would have been considered noble 
and praiseworthy ; being Robin , it is looked upon as 
bold and unlady-like. I don’t care. I will find 
something to do, if it is to be found, and not step out 
of my proper sphere, either. I don’t know as it 
will do any good,” stopping before Dr. Hunt’s door, 
“ but I might as well venture it.” 

Mrs. Dr. Hunt was a little bit of a woman, wfith 
soft black eyes lighting up the happiest kind of a 
face. The bright eyes filled with tears, however, 
when they fell upon this young girl in her black 
dress. Eobin Holmes had always been such a gay 
butterfly in her pink and blue ribbons. The somber 
garb was suggestive of a great change. 

“ It seems impossible to me that your dear mother 
is gone, Eobin,” said Mrs. Hunt, kissing the fresh 
young, lips. “ She was one of those living, loving 
souls with whom we cannot associate the idea of 
death.” 

“ Mother is not dead,” said Eobin, simply. “ All 
that day before she went she was asleep. In ( the 
morning she awoke. I shall always think of her as 
awake in some happy region. She went out from us 
with that wonderful smile. I am sure her eyes must 
have caught something joyful.” 

“I am sure of it,” echoed Mrs. Hunt, smiling 


The Stirred Nest. 


61 


through her tears ; “ they opened surprised and glad 
upon eternal sunshine.” 

“ Mrs. Hunt, do you think I can ever be any 
thing but a butterfly ? ” asked Robin, breaking the 
silence which always follows an allusion to those who 
have become sacred to our hearts through the mystery 
of death. 

“ Well,” said the little lady, her musical laugh 
ringing hope to Robin’s discouraged ears, “ I should 
not be surprised, indeed, I have always imagined 
that you would develop into a substantial woman 
some day. There is a certain element of pluck and 
cheerful courage about you which go far toward the 
making uj) of a womanly character. After you have 
been disciplined for a time in the school of hard 
knocks you will round out most gracefully.” 

“ Is the school of hard knocks a necessary course ? ” 

“ To most natures it is. There are some exquisitely 
fine ones which do not seem to require such rough 
tutelage, but as a general thing the storms of life are 
indispensable to the fruitfulness of the human heart. 
If you had taken a ride out in the country a week or 
two ago, ynu would have seen over every fruit-bear- 
ing tree and shrub a rosy mist of blossoms, making 
our old earth such a marvel of beauty and fragrance ( 
that, when the hard storm came driving away all this 
lovely outward show, one could not restrain a feeling 
of regret almost amounting to genuine sorrow. But 
in a few months, when we behold the crimsom and 


62 


A Golden Inheritance. 


golden fruit ripening and rounding out into delicious- 
ness, we shall cease to regret the pretty, showy blos- 
soms. And thus, when we observe the perfecting of 
a grand character which is to bless and enrich this 
poor world of ours, we shall not regret the storm 
and the wind which scattered away the froth and 
sparkle that it might reveal the deep, rich mind un- 
m derneath.” 

“ Do you think that people can be happy in this 
world unless they have something to do ? ” asked Dob- 
in, approaching her subject more gradually this time. 

“ Certainly not. Have you just found that out ? ” 

“ I think I have. At least idleness has been a 
thorn in my flesh for several weeks. This morning 
I started out resolved to do or die. I made a bold 
plunge and went to Mrs. Dunbar. I asked her to 
allow me to instruct her little girls in music. She 
informed me that they were provided with a teacher, 
and kindly advised me to go home and be content. 
Instead of going home I came here.” 

Mrs. Hunt did not reply at once. When she did 
it was with brightening eyes. 

“ My dear child, I can sympathize with you fully. 
You are doing just what I did twenty years ago. 
After weeks and weeks of wretched idleness and un- 
easiness and misery, (I was an orphan, living with an 
older married sister,) I awoke one morning with the 
same grand resolution to do or die. Without speak- 
ing to any one of my purpose, I started out in quest 


The Stirred Nest. 


63 


of employment. I had no definite idea in my head, 
but determined to seize upon the first thing which 
presented itself. Well, I kept on all day long, going 
from the house of one acquaintance to another asking 
for a situation, first as governess, then as seamstress, 
and I would have even offered my services as servant 
had I not been restrained by a regard for my sister’s 
feelings upon the subject. But each successive at- 
tempt was met by the same refusal. Most of them 
were provided with employes, and those who were 
not had no wish to engage the services of a young 
lady occupying a position in society on a par with 
their own. I had scarcely pluck enough to apply to 
strangers, and so tired out, hungry, discouraged, and 
half sick, I started at length for home. Passing 
through the park, I sat down a moment to rest, when 
an old gentleman from the country, noticing, as he 
afterward told me, my discouraged face, strolled up 
to me and said something kind, I have forgotten 
what, but the sympathetic tone went straight to my 
poor heart, and I burst into a flood of stormy tears. 
With a few skillful questions the old gentleman 
drew my miserable story from me. 

“ ‘ Why, is that all? ’ he said, smiling. ‘ Well, now, 
may be you’re just the very one I’ve been looking for 
all these weeks. There’s a little bit of a school out 
in the country that’s waiting for a teacher. Can you 
teach?’ I informed him, eagerly, that I could. 
Well, I cannot enter into details, but I went out in 


64 


A Golden Inheritance. 


the country and was there two years. It was there 
I found my doctor.” 

“ That was a good finding,” smiled Robin. 

The black eyes became soft and loving. 

“Yes. God was keeping great happiness for me. 
Perhaps he is doing the same for you.” 

“ I wish he would send me the old gentleman from 
the country,” laughed Robin. 

“ Perhaps he will. If it is best for you, he cer- 
tainly will. Put probably it is not best. Indeed, 
from a selfish stand-point I should hope it were not. 
We must try and keep you here. Can you not ob- 
tain a position in one of our public schools ? ” 

“ I have made no effort to do so. Mother, for some 
reason, had a prejudice against that employment, 
and I certainly have not the slightest gift for teach- 
ing and, I must confess, a great distaste for it.” 

“ My dear, we must all learn that often the very 
things from which we shrink are the things which 
God would have us undertake.” 

“ I cannot see why. I should think he would 
want us to use the talents which he has given us.” 

“ It may be necessary to the cultivating and per- 
fecting of our natures to bring out and put to use 
those latent powers within us which we think do not 
exist. It may be they are only waiting to be brought 
out. And sometimes we are even required to do 
that for which we have not, and cannot have, the least 
possible taste or inclination.” 


The Stirred Nest. 


65 


“ Every tiling looks very hard to me,” sighed Robin, 
disconsolately ; “ do yon think teaching can be a' dis- 
cipline necessary for me ? ” 

“ I do not know. Mind, I do not say it is, only it 
is possible. If yon are determined to do something, 
and there is nothing else for yon to do, I should 
think that it was God’s will for you to teach.” 

“ I will go and see Miss Lake, then. She can help 
me to a situation if any one can. But suppose that 
fails?” 

“ If your attempt is thorough, and your failure 
complete, I think you will be justifiable in thinking 
that God has other plans for you.” 

Robin’s feet were very heavy as they w T ent out of 
the door. 

“ But do not be discouraged if every attempt 
proves unsuccessful,” said Mrs. Hunt, earnestly. 
“Be sure there is a niche waiting somewhere for 

just you.” 

5 


66 


A Golden Inheritance. 


VI. 

FINDING HER NICHE. 

“ Go, get thee to thy task ! Conquer or die ! 

It must be learned. Learn it, then, patiently.” 

B ACK to the old school-room went Robin. Up the 
worn and battered steps, over which she used to 
bound so lightly years and years ago. Stopping a 
moment at the top, she looked down upon the play- 
ground, which was swarming at this hour with noisy, 
happy boys and girls. 

“ O I want to go back ! ” cried Robin’s heart, with 
a sudden outreaching toward the sunny shores of 
child-land. But the relentless wheels of time would 
not turn' back, neither would they stop for a short 
instant, and the town clock, striking eleven, warned 
Robin that the fifteen minutes recess was drawing to 
its close. What she did must be done quickly. She 
could not go out and play with the children, neither 
could she stand here and dream. She must turn her 
eyes away from all this brightness, walk quietly in, 
open that door at the end of the hall, and face the 
formidable Miss Lake. 

“ c And dar’st thou then 
To beard the lion in his den, 

The Douglas in his hall ? ’ ” 


Finding her Niche. 


67 . 


she caught herself repeating as she went through the 
dingy hall and paused at the door. Then she laughed, 
and, reassured by the sound of her own laugh, she 
turned the knob and stepped softly in. 

The teacher, sitting erect and grim in the now 
silent school-room, her head slightly bent, and her 
brows knit over an example in Algebra, was not a 
very encouraging spectacle, especially to Eobin, to 
w T hom the sight of her always recalled sad recollec- 
tions of old misdeeds on her own part, stern reproof 
and punishment on the part of this lady. Forty-five 
years old, slightly gray, with stern eyes and thin, sar- 
castic lips, and a voice which, from long-continued 
commanding and reproving, had grown cold and hard, 
she was certainly not a person who invited confi- 
dence. This woman’s whole life-experience had 
been hardening. Alone in the world, homeless, 
friendless, almost from her infancy, she had passed 
her childhood at a boarding-school, leaving, at the 
age of sixteen, to take up the work of teaching, 
which work she had pursued year after year, without 
cessation or change, until now. For the past ten 
years she had occupied the position of principal in 
this public school, going through the same wearisome 
round day after day, year after year, beholding her 
pupils pass from childhood into youth and manhood 
and womanhood before her eyes, leaving her and the 
old school-room far in the distance, while they grew 
into positions of usefulness and honor. Still the 


68 


A Golden Inheritance. 


teacher must plod on her monotonous way, growing 
harder and colder as the years rolled by, and more 
weary, perhaps, but seeing the end no nearer than 
when she began. Intently absorbed now in the sub- 
ject before her, she had not heard Eobin’s entrance, 
nor was she aware of her presence until, suddenly 
raising her eyes, she beheld her standing at the desk 
before her, demure and black-robed, with the same 
awe-struck look in the brown eyes which they always 
wore when in her presence. The sudden apparition 
of this old pupil was not altogether pleasing to the 
lady. Eobin had never been one of her favorites. 
Her restless, mischievous, fun-loving disposition had 
rendered her a source of perpetual annoyance in the 
school-room, and her lessons were not always well 
recited, for Eobin seldom made an exertion in any 
direction. Those studies which required but little 
effort on her part were always prepared, but any 
thing which did not readily present itself to her un- 
derstanding she neglected willfully. There was also 
a certain element of stubbornness about the child so 
wrapped about with good-nature, that it made her an 
exceedingly difficult subject to govern. But some- 
how this morning the sight of her standing there so 
quietly in her black apparel, with her sad and inno- 
cent face, aroused a throb of sympathy in the teach- 
er’s calloused heart. 

“ The child has lost her mother,” she thought. 

“ Good-morning, Eobin,” she said, kindly, holding 


Finding Her Hiche. 


69 


out her hand ; “ what brings yon back to the old 
school-room once more \ ” 

Here was the opening which the girl desired. 

“ I came to ask you if there is any possible chance 
for me to obtain a position as primary teacher in any 
school in the city ? I thought you wmuld know if 
there were any vacancy.” 

The cold, gray eyes looked her over in surprise. 

“ Is it for yourself you wish the position ? I did 
not suppose that you ever had the slightest disposi- 
tion for such a life.” 

“ I have not,” said Robin, bluntly, “ but I must do 
something.” 

“ Can you not find some more congenial employ- 
ment ? ” 

“ Possibly I might, if I knew to whom to apply for 
assistance, but I am sadly lone-handed and perplexed. 
In sheer desperation I came to you.” 

The lady thought a moment, her eyes fixed vacant- 
ly upon the young face before her. 

“ Teaching is not your forte,” she said, at length, in 
her metallic voice. “ You have not one of the essen- 
tial requirements. It would take years and years of 
experience to model you into even the most ordinary 
teacher. I could not think of recommending you 
anywhere in that capacity, even if I knew of any 
vacancy waiting to be filled. But at present there is 
not one in town. Hext fall there may possibly be 
an opening, but I would not advise you to wait for 


70 A Golden Inheritance. 

it. There are twenty teachers now standing ready to 
spring into the first empty place.” 

Robin turned away with a choking sensation in her 
throat. 

“ Good-morning, Miss Lake,” she said ; “ I see I 
am intruding upon your time.” 

“ No.” The lady leaned forward, and laid her hand 
upon Robin’s arm in her earnestness. “ What I say 
is for your good. I would save you from a hard, 
useless struggle. The pursuance of any occupation 
for which one is not adapted insures the most 
grinding sort of an existence. The work of teach- 
ing is a peculiarly trying one. If you were my 
daughter I would put you out to service before I 
would allow you, with your inadaptation, to enter 
upon a life so difficult and arduous. Go home and 
do the first thing you find to do, if it is but to sweep 
up a bit of dirt from the carpet ; do it heartily, and 
in time you will find your work.” 

a Or, as Mrs. Dunbar says, it will come to me,” 
mused Robin, bitterly, as she passed out of the 
great brick building into the hot sunshine again. 
“ I may as well give it up. I’ll stop and see Floy a 
moment, and then go home and be sensible.” 

She found Florence in a delightful state of cozi- 
ness, lying in a cool, dark, fragrant room, her golden 
head buried in the crimson cushions of a sofa, a new 
book in her hand, new music on the piano, a bouquet 
of choice flowers, and a silver basket of Florida 


Finding Her Niche. 


71 


oranges upon tlie stand at her side. How differently 
these two young girls had spent their morning. 
How different the two lives were, and yet how alike 
in their discontent. Could it be idleness which 
was the source of unrest in both their fresh, eager 
souls ? 

“Now, Robin Holmes, how did you happen to 
come just at this moment ? ” cried Florence, spring- 
ing from her sofa ; “ I was just wishing for you. Take 
off your hat.” 

“ No ; I am only going to stop a moment.” 

“ You are going to stop the rest of the day, 
at least,” said the 4 little princess , 5 peremptorily, 
lifting the hat from Robin’s head and proceeding 
to unfasten the gloves and draw them from her 
hands, 

Robin yielded with only a slight remonstrance. 
This luxurious coolness and restfulness were delight- 
ful after her long, hot, discouraged morning. 

“ Now talk on,” said Florence, as, after establish- 
ing her friend in the depths of a great easy-chair, she 
went back to her sofa again, and curled herself up in 
a listening attitude. 

But Robin was in no mood for talking. It was 
not pleasant to detail, even in imagination, the weari- 
some hours of that morning. It was delicious to lie 
there in her easy-chair and let her eyes rove from 
picture to picture, and through the half-closed shut- 
ters out into the beautiful grounds which, under the 


72 


A Golden Inheeitance. 


hands of a skillful gardener, were growing every day 
nearer and nearer perfection. 

After awhile she strolled to the piano, and letting 
her fingers stray idly over the keys, brought out one 
of those exquisite melodies which no other fingers 
hut hers could evoke. The grand instrument yielded 
to her touch, responding with such gracious sweet- 
ness, that the soul of every listener, however obdu- 
rate, was charmed in spite of itself. To the passion- . 
ate ear of little Florence Fairfax it was like the 
sound of golden harps. 

“Kobin Holmes, you are a musical wonder,” said 
Florence’s mother, wdio, attracted by the sound of 
the piano, had entered unperceived ; “ I would give 
thousands of dollars for such a gift.” 

Kobin wheeled suddenly about and confronted the 
lady. 

“ "What a pity it is that I cannot sell it ! ” 

“You would be a very foolish girl. The whole 
world could never buy it from me.” 

“ It is not of the least possible use to me,” said 
Kobin, indifferently; “I would exchange it in an in- 
stant for the knowledge of some useful trade by 
which I could earn my bread and butter.” 

“You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Kobin 
Holmes,” said Florence, indignantly. “ Such talk is 
as foolish as it is wicked.” 

“ Are you, then, so desirous of earning your 
living ?” asked Mrs. Fairfax, curiously; “ I thought 


Finding Her Niche. 


73 


Lulu was doing such a flourishing business that there 
would be no necessity of your exerting yourself. 
She certainly is the best dress-maker in the city, and 
that is saying a great deal. She fits to perfection, 
and her sewing is marvelous. If she were disposed 
to employ assistants and set up an establishment she 
might make her fortune. I think in time she will 
accomplish it. I don’t see why you need worry your 
heart about your bread and butter while you have 
her to depend upon.” 

“ Mrs. Fairfax, do you know any thing about it, 
that feeling of dependence ? ” asked Robin, quietly. 

“ Well,” said the lady, after a pause, “if you feel 
that way, suppose you come and live with us as a sort 
of companion for Floy. She is so blue and dull all 
the time, I am sure I don’t know whatever to do 
with her. If any one can arouse her you can, and 
then your wonderful music would brighten up our 
home. It has become terribly dull of late.” 

Robin sighed. How splendid it would be if she 
might accept of this proposal. But poor Lulu in her 
lonely home ! No, it was not to be thought of, and 
resolutely she put the tempting picture out of her 
sight. 

“ Mrs. Fairfax, you are very kind, but I could not 
possibly accept your invitation.” 

“ Why not ? Is it because you do not wish to leave 
your sister ? ” 

“ Yes.” 


74 


A Golden Inheritance. 


“Well, tliat seems to me a rather poor excuse. 
Since you can do nothing to help her, I should think 
she might be better off without you ; and she will not 
be alone. Your old servant is the best kind of a safe- 
guard. Besides, if you should obtain employment 
away from this place, you would not hesitate to go, 
I presume, thus leaving her entirely; when, if you 
came to us, you would be within a stone’s throw of 
her. Where is the difference ? ” 

Ah ! there was a difference, a very great one. This 
girl’s generous heart could not for an instant cherish 
the idea of accepting a home of ease and elegance, 
while her sister was struggling and toiling on her 
wearisome way alone. 

“ And to go a step further,” went on Mrs. Fairfax, 
persistently ; “ suppose you should marry, would you 
not then be obliged to leave her, or will you allow 
your loyalty to your sister to stand- even in the way 
of that ? ” 

“I really have never thought so far,” laughed 
Bobin; “though, of course, in that case my own 
home would be my sister’s also.” 

“ Then your mind is fully made up not to come 
and live with Floy ? ” 

“ O, mamma, do let the matter rest,” said the lame 
girl, warmly. “If I cannot have a thing, I do not 
want to think about it. There’s the lunch-bell. I 
am glad to hear it. We are to have strawberries and 
ice-cream.” 


Finding Her Niche. 


75 


Robin ate her strawberries and cream in silence. 
She had a child’s enjoyment of these luxuries. It 
was not easy to shut herself out of them all, and go 
back to plain bread and butter. 

“ We are going to Long Branch and Saratoga this 
summer,” Floy had said, on her way to the dining- 
room. “ We shall probably spend the winter in the 
South.” 

“ Dame Fortune,” thought Robin, “is constantly 
holding her choice gifts in my sight, and still keeping 
them just beyond my reach.” 

“ Is there no possibility that you will change your 
mind some time, Robin ?” asked Florence, yearningly, 
as her friend was leaving. Robin thought a moment. 
It was hard to refuse the pleading of the blue eyes. 

“ I will come,” she said, slowly, “ if God opens 
the way.” 

“ Thanks. I will ask him.” said Florence, simply. 

“ I wonder if it would do any good to ask him to 
give me something to do,” mused Robin, as she pur- 
sued her homeward way, her eyes bent upon the 
pavement. “ If he should answer me, he must dis- 
appoint Floy. What a mixed up thing it is, any way, 
that one shall be comforted, another must be disap- 
pointed.” 

“ Whither are you flying so fast, Robin ? ” asked a 
pleasant voice behind her, and, turning, she beheld 
the tall figure of Mr. Dunbar, his genial face red and 
perspiring. 


76 


A Golden Inheritance. 


“ I liave been trying to overtake yon for the full 
length of this street. Whew, how hot it is! See 
here, young lady, I w^ant to talk business with you, 
but you must assume a slower gait than the one in 
which you have been indulging if I am to keep pace 
with you. My wife has been telling me that you are 
out on a business quest to-day.” 

“ I was,” said Robin, with her old musical laugh, 
“ but I have abandoned the scheme in despair. I am 
going home now to wait for something to turn up,” 

“Perhaps it will turn up before you get home. 
Do you know any thing about book-keeping?” 

“I was quite a paragon at it two years ago, my last 
year in school, but I have rusted out during this idle 
time.” 

“ You could easily brush up, I think.” 

“ Yes ; if I had an object I could study night and 
day.” 

“Well, I have a proposal to make to you. My 
book-keeper, who has been in my employ five years, 
is obliged to give up his position for a year on account 
of failing health. He is a grand fellow and I can’t 
think of setting him adrift entirely, but I must sup- 
ply his place for a year, so if you have a notion to 
try your wings you may.” 

“ Why, Mr. Dunbar ! ” exclaimed Robin, aghast 
at the enormity of the responsibility about to be laid 
upon her shoulders. “You cannot possibly be in 
earnest ! ” 


Finding Hek Niche. 


77 


“Why not? If you understand the business, I 
see no reason why you could not till the posi- 
tion. All it requires is a clear head, a knowledge 
of the art, and steady application. Of course, if 
you accept the situation I shall expect you to attend 
to it.” 

“ But I am such a — butterfly, Mr. Dunbar,” gasped 
Robin. 

“ I know you have always borne that reputa- 
tion,” said the gentleman, with the sunshiny smile, 
“but I will give you the opportunity of refuting it. 
Possibly you may become a bee yet. Will you ac- 
cept my proposal or do you consider the business too 
confining? Remember, it is confining and respon- 
sible. Do not decide at once. Perhaps you would 
better consult your sister.” 

“ I will consult no one,” said Robin, with a dash of 
her willful spirit. “Mr. Dunbar, you have opened 
the very gates of Paradise to me ! ” 

“ Take care. Don’t be enthusiastic until you have 
tried it a week. There’s no fun in book-keeping, I 
assure you. But you have asked no questions as to 
the salary. For this year I will pay you eight hun- 
dred dollars.” 

Robin jumped up and clapped her hands, little- 
girl fashion. 

“ Mr. Dunbar, this is too good to be true, but sup- 
pose, after all, that I cannot do the work.” 

“ I have no fears of that. Take this week to brush 


78 A Golden Inheritance. 

up your ideas, and I will expect you on Monday 
morning.” 

Aunty Whipple was setting the little table for 
supper when Eobin came dashing in like a young 
whirlwind. She caught the old woman by the 
shoulders, and whirled her round and round the room, 
to the great danger of the saucers in her hand. 
Freeing herself as soon as possible Aunty Whipple 
looked at the animated face severely. 

“ Seems to me, Eobin Holmes, this is queer doin’s, 
friskin about like a young colt and your mother 
scarce cold in her grave.” 

Eobin sobered instantly. It was hard to come 
back. 

“ Lu,” she said, quietly going over to her sister’s 
chair, “ I have found the pot of gold. I am going 
to keep Mr. Dunbar’s books.” 

Lulu looked at her incredulously. 

“Is Mr. Dunbar crazy?” she asked. 

“ Perhaps he is, but he is an angel ! ” 


Me. Dunbar’s Weakness. 


79 


YIT. 

MR. DUNBAR’S WEAKNESS. 


“ Show me the man you honor. I know by that symptom, better 
than any other, what kind of a man you yourself are ; for you show 
me there wliat your ideal of manhood is, what kind of a man you 
long, inexpressibly, to be.” 



HEN Mr. Dunbar offered to Bobin Holmes 


TT this position of trust in his large dry-goods 
establishment, it must be confessed that he did it with 
many misgivings and no very mature deliberation. 
He was a man possessed of an immense heart. Ever 
since he could remember he had been on the alert to 
do something for somebody. Not that he was partic- 
ularly aware of the fact; such people seldom are. 
They have practiced the habit so long that it has 
become a second nature to them. But this wonderful 
loving-kindness, this large sympathy toward all his 
fellow-beings, was a mantle which wrapped him 
about so completely that it had become a part of his 
existence. Every body loved this man. The very 
sight of his huge proportions and beaming face was 
an inspiration wherever it appeared. Even the lit- 
tle newsboys and beggar-girls in the streets smiled 
when they met him. A dozen times every da} r of 
his life, if opportunity offered, did his large, strong 
hand lift a burden from some heavily-laden shoulder, 


80 


A Golden Inheritance. 


or pull away a shade to let the sunshine in on some 
darkened life ; at all times and in all places he was 
ready to help struggling humanity. When, there- 
fore, his wife had presented Kobin’s case to him that 
day at dinner, dwelling at some length upon her ambi- 
tious desires, together with the hopelessness and disap- 
pointment which were visible upon her countenance 
as she left the house, his ever- ready sympathy was at 
once espoused. How to assist the young lady, was 
the question which puzzled him all that afternoon, 
staring at him alike from the pages of newspaper 
and bank-book ; until suddenly there had flashed into 
his brain this somewhat impracticable idea of placing 
her in the responsible position of his retiring book- 
keeper. He had a vague recollection of having 
heard somewhere — O yes, he remembered now, Pro- 
fessor Forbes of the high-school, had once remarked 
in his hearing that little Hobin Holmes had a fine 
head for mathematics, that she wrote an excellent 
hand, and excelled in book-keeping. 

Here, then, were the requirements. With his usual 
self-forgetfulness he lost sight of the fact that she was 
a giddy young girl, without experience or steadfastness 
of purpose. It had always been a question among 
the people of Burlington how a man so unselfish as 
Mr. Dunbar was so successful in business. But per- 
haps it was not at all to be questioned about after all. 
His ways were pleasing to God, and he sent prosperity. 

“It is remarkable ! ” people said. Was it remark- 


Mr. Dunbar’s Weakness. 


81 


able that the wise Euler of all the earth should see 
tit to place silver and gold in hands which had proved 
themselves so worthy of the trust ? 

Now it seems a little singular, but it is neverthe- 
less true, that when Mr. Dunbar mentioned the 
name of his new book-keeper to his wife she was 
ill-pleased. 

“ A most unheard-of proceeding on your part,’’ she 
said, with asperity. 

“ May I ask why ? ” 

“ Why ? I should not suppose a man possessed of 
common sense would need to ask. You could not 
have chosen a person more unfitted and less calculated 
to fill the position. Just imagine that thoughtless 
child in the place of your steady, faithful Haynes ! 
Eeally, of all your platonic ideas, this takes the lead !” 

“ What should I have done ? ” 

“Just what any other sensible man would have 
done. Supplied Mr. Haynes’s place during his absence 
wfith some competent, reliable person. There are 
plenty who would jump at the chance.” 

“ And in the mean time what are we to do with 
this young girl ? ” 

“ I do not consider it strictly necessary that we 
should do any thing. She will get on well enough. 
Girls with pretty faces and bright ways are not 
usually left to pine in solitude. There are plenty of 
well-to-do young men who might consider it an honor 

to win Eobin Holmes.” 

6 


82 A Golden Inheritance. 

“ But possibly she might not consider it an honor 
to be won. There is a certain independent .flash 
about those great eyes of hers which leads me to 
imagine her heart will not be lightly taken by any 
one.” 

“ Perhaps not, if you go to putting these independ- 
ent notions into her head. You may ruin her pros- 
pects for life. At any rate, you can only assist her 
for one year. What do you propose to do with her 
when Haynes returns % ” 

“ If she acquits herself creditably in my employ 
for a year, she will find it no difficult task to obtain 
a situation most anywhere. That is my principal 
consideration in employing her ; to give her the ex- 
perience wdiich every young person needs.” 

“ And, in the mean time, to spoil her for the posi- 
tion in life which she will be most likely called upon 
to occupy. I suppose, since this is only a venture, 
you propose to pay her a mere trifle.” 

“I shall pay her eight hundred dollars. I paid 
Mr. Haynes a thousand.” 

“ And this child almost as much ! Certainly, Mr. 
Dunbar, you have lost your senses! I should not 
• have thought of offering her half that amount.” 

“ I see no reason why I should defraud her. If 
she does the same work that Haynes did, I cannot 
understand why she is not entitled to the same wages. 
Indeed, I only hesitated in offering her the full 
amount of his salary because I feared that she might 


Mr. Dunbar’s Weakness. 83 

be unable to fill the position, which would entail 
upon me the necessity of having an assistant.” 

“ You may as well do that at once. The idea of 
Robin Holmes being expected to walk a chalk-line 
for a year! Why she has scarcely been known to 
keep at one thing for ten consecutive minutes. I 
should not think of depending on her for a week. 
However, you will find out for yourself.” 

But, contrary to all expectations, Mr. Dunbar did 
not find out. Or, at least, what he did find out was 
not what had been foretold. There had always been 
an amount of pluck and determination in the char- 
acter of Robin Holmes, which stood her in good 
stead now. She had determined not to disappoint 
her employer, and having determined to accomplish a 
thing she usually did acomplish it. 

At first Lulu watched the resolute face as it ap- 
peared and disappeared night and morning, with a 
faithless smile curving the corners of her mouth. 
But as the days grew into weeks and the weeks into 
months her smile changed to one of genuine admi- 
ration. 

“ Robin, you surprise me,” she observed, one morn- 
ing, as her sister stood buttoning her water-proof 
preparatory to going out into the pouring rain. 

“ In wdiat way ? ” asked Robin, turning quickly. 

“In every way. You are really becoming in 
earnest.” 

“ I have always been in earnest, Lu, only my 


84 A Golden Inheritance. 

strength has been spent for naught — wasted on 
trifles.” 

Aunty Whipple looked after her with grave eyes 
as she disappeared through the storm. 

“ I’m afraid she’s getting too much in earnest,” she 
said, anxiously. That book-keeping is too close 
work for her. It is like taking a singing bird away 
from the sunshine it’s been used to and shutting it 
Up in a dark cage.” 

u I think the shutting up may be a good thing for 
her,” said Lulu, carelessly. “ Any way, she is doing 
admirably.” 

Mr. Dunbar was delighted with his new book- 
keeper. 

“ She suits me in every way,” he told his wife one 
day at dinner. “ She is quick, accurate, and steady. 
No clerk in my store is more thoroughly reliable and 
persevering. Every morning at precisely the same 
hour her face appears at the door. She wastes no 
time, makes no blunders. I consider myself ex- 
ceedingly fortunate to have secured so competent a 
young person to keep my accounts.” 

Mrs. Dunbar repeated the ancient formulae about 
the new broom, but at length even she was won into 
a concession that Robin was not all butterfly. 

“ It was really astonishing,” she remarked to Mrs. 
Hunt, who was calling upon her ; “ six months ago I 
would no sooner have thought of placing Robin 
Holmes in a position of trust than I would have 


Mr. Dunbar’s Weakness. 85 

thought of resigning the reins of my own household 
into the hands of my little girls.” 

“ It seems your husband thought of it,” said Mrs. 
Hunt, gravely. 

“ O certainly ! It is exactly what is to be expected 
of him. He is accustomed to doing absurd things. 
It is a weakness of his.” 

“ I sometimes think,” said Mrs. Hunt, quietly, 
“ that it would be a better world if more of us were 
troubled with Mr. Dunbar’s weakness. We are too 
much afraid of venturing self-interest. There is 
such a thing as unwise wisdom.” 

“ I have never heard of it,” laughed Mrs. Dunbar. 

“ Perhaps no one ever did ; but it is an opinion of 
mine that while we are so anxious to secure for our- 
selves the good things of this life, that we are unwill- 
ing to give others a chance, we are in serious danger 
of losing that other good which we will find our- 
selves so greatly in need of when we stand in the 
presence of the great Judge.” 

“Well, as to that,” said the other lady, excusingly, 
“ there may be two opinions. Which is the more 
unselfish life, that which chases up and down the 
world, seeking to do good here and there, and inter- 
fering often with the Lord’s own plans, and doing 
actual harm by its well-meant meddling, or that 
which labors quietly in its own small corner, doing 
God’s will in the sphere in which he has placed it ? 
How Mr. Dunbar actually appears to set the inter- 


86 


A Golden Inheritance. 


ests of other people before bis own. I have known 
him to do the most remarkable things, and the habit 
grows upon him. Year by year he is becoming freer 
hearted. Why, I should not be surprised to find my- 
self in the street some day, and my beautiful home 
inhabited by some unfortunate who has enlisted his 
sympathies. I cannot say that I altogether admire 
this wonderful magnanimity.” 

“ And yet he is wonderfully prospered,” said Mrs. 
Hunt. 

“ Prospered ! Yes, Providence takes care of us.” 

“ And smiles upon your husband most radiantly, 
Mrs. Dunbar. Is he ever unhappy ? ” 

“Never. I do not believe he knows what the 
feeling of sadness or despondency is. He is pos- 
sessed, and wonderfully so, of perfect health and 
glorious spirits. His presence is like the sun in the 
house.” 

“Is it strange that one who lives out the very 
spirit of Christ in his every-day life should be thus 
blessed ? I should scarcely be surprised to see a halo 
about his head. I can imagine no grander creation 
than that of a man who uses his wealth, time, talents, 
his all, for the glory of God. He must lie down 
every night under the overshadowing wings of per- 
fect peace.” 

Meanwhile Mr. Dunbar was being as admiringly 
discussed by another earnest pair as they walked 
down Main Street together. Upon leaving the store 


Mr. Dunbar’s Weakness. 


87 


that evening Robin had become suddenly conscious 
of the fixed, half -entreating gaze of a pair of very 
eager eyes, which were earnestly regarding her from 
the opposite side of the street. 

a Evert Russel,” she said, sending a bow and smile 
over to him. 

He crossed the street awkwardly, half hesitatingly, 
to j oin her, a great, tall, broad-shouldered young fel- 
low, with a face which would be strong and fine some 
day ; just now, however, it was boyish and shy. 

He lifted his hat deferentially as Robin laid her 
hand in his strong clasp. 

“ Do you not find book-keeping in an establishment 
of that size something of a tax during this warm 
weather?” he asked, for the sake of saying some- 
thing. He was always slightly embarrassed in Robin 
Holmes’s presence. 

“ Ho,” she said, brightly ; “ it is a pleasure to work 
for a man like Mr. Dunbar, though I can conceive 
how, under other circumstances, the confinement 
might be unendurable.” » 

She had introduced a happy theme, and one upon 
which the young man never ceased to wax eloquent, 
namely, Mr. Dunbar. 

“ He is a man who makes one in love with all the 
world,” he said, the words coming easily enough now. 
“ He verily lives in an atmosphere of kindness and 
good-will toward every body. I, for instance, owe 
my life to him.” 


88 


A Golden Inheritance. 


“ You ? ” repeated Eobin, inquiringly. 

“ 1. Two years ago there was not in existence a 
more miserable young scalawag than myself. I beg 
your pardon, Miss Eobin, but when I remember my- 
self as I was at nineteen I feel that no words are suf- 
ficient for denunciation. In fact, I was going to de- 
struction as fast as my reckless feet could carry me. 
My health was giving out beneath the weight of my 
excesses, and, if I had not been rescued, I would 
probably have been in my grave to-day. That man 
saved me. My mother, poor soul! was almost dis- 
tracted with watching my career until, in one for- 
tunate moment, God and her common sense directed 
her to Mr. Dunbar. He lost no time. Having dis- 
covered a poor drowning soul, he set out to rescue it, 
and he did. I cannot tell how, but in some sure way 
of his own he drew me out of the muddy w T aves. 
At first he was scarcely able to keep my head above 
the swash, but he persevered with that noble perse- 
verance of his until at last I had strength enough to 
shake the drops from my garments. He found me 
employment, and thought it worth his while to keep 
his eye upon me. He said very little, but his pure 
life spoke volumes. O, Eobin ! Eobin ! from be- 
holding such a grand life as this, one can become 
filled with great impulses. As for me, I am grow r - 
ing discontented with my little space. I long to 
become a power in building up characters into the 
stature of men in Christ Jesus.” 


Me. Dunbae’s Weakness. 


89 


lie paused suddenly, his face flushing deeply. 

“ I beg your pardon,” he said, confusedly, “ I for- 
got that I was in the street instead of in the pulpit.” 

But Robin’s clear eyes looked straight into his own, 
bright with encouragement. 

“ I am in full sympathy with you, Evert Russel,” 
she said, pausing as they reached the door of her 
home. “ May God make you a powerful man ! ” 


90 


A Golden Inheritance. 


Yin. 


A PROBLEM. 


“ The summer birds are singing, and the sun, 
The golden sun, shines brightly over all ; 

I heed not summer birds, but listening wait 


Lest thou shouldst call.” 


FTER that night Evert Russel was like one who 



ii had received an inspiration, as, indeed, he had. 
Robin Holmes had spoken a God-speed and looked a 
a God bless you ” from her honest, womanly eyes. 
All his life the thought of Robin Holmes had been a 
more-or-less inspiring one to this young man. Long 
years ago, when he used to draw her to school on his 
sled, he had been wont to declare, with boyish fervor, 
that “ he liked Robin because she was such a jolly 
girl for fun ; most as good as a boy.” But during 
these sad, lost years of his life, while he was strug- 
gling, as he expressed it, “ in the muddy waves,” he 
lost sight of her altogether. She was too fair and 
white for his darkened eyes. When, however, he 
found himself on shore again, clothed and in his 
right mind, he began to look around for Robin. 
Very timidly, almost reluctantly, it was that he 
raised his eyes to her again while the memory of 
those dark days was pressing him sore ; but with re- 
turning manliness came returning self-respect. With 


A Problem. 


91 


an exercise of his powerful will and God’s help, he 
forgot those things which were behind, and pressed 
forward with daily increasing strength. Having 
shaken off the drops of the cess-pool from which he 
had escaped, he did not consider it necessary that the 
memory of their pollution should still overshadow 
him. If association with the corrupt had dragged 
him downward, he naturally reasoned that association 
with the pure would have the opposite tendency, and 
that by such association he might gradually regain 
that which he had lost through his wrong-doing. 

Every afternoon now, as he left his place of busi- 
ness, he found himself, almost involuntarily, hurrying 
in the direction of Mr. Dunbar’s store to wait at the 
entrance, with eager eyes and quickening pulses, 
until the slight, black-robed figure should emerge, 
and the brown eyes flash out a greeting. It w r as to 
him the supreme hour of the day. Indeed, this 
homeward walk through the. noisy, bustling streets, 
Was becoming the event to which both these young 
persons looked forward with increasing enjoyment 
as the one happy rest in their busy lives. They 
were growing keenly appreciative of each other’s so- 
ciety, each nature finding in the other a certain 
responsive strength and aid which it did not meet 
elsewhere. It was during one of these homeward 
walks, in the mistiness of an August twilight, that 
Evert Russel confessed to Robin Holmes the secret 
aspirations of his wide-awake, eager soul. 


92 A Golden Inherit ance. 

“ I have a great desire to study for the ministry,” 
he told her, softly, his face flushing red and hot in 
the tender light. “ The longing came to me one 
morning in church last spring. I have been fighting 
it with all my strength, for I can see no possible way 
by which to accomplish it ; but the desire will not lie 
overcome. It increases every day of my life, as I 
see more and more of the vastness of the work which 
seems to lie waiting for my hands alone. I have 
never spoken of this before to any one but God. 
Robin, you have been blest with more common sense 
than most people ; can you not suggest some process 
by which I can get rid of these visionary notions, 
which hamper and unfit me for the business of life 
before me ? ” 

“ I do not see why you should get rid of them,” 
said Robin, slowly. 

“ O, I must, indeed ! There is no possible way. 
My life-work is laid out for me right here. I am 
doing well in my present position. To leave it would 
look like the height of foolishness to every body.” 

“Well, what of it? Is every body’s opinion of 
such vast account to you that you can afford to sacri- 
fice conscience and principle so that your conduct 
may accord with every body’s ideas ? ” 

“ It is a question with me whether this new-born 
impulse of mine is a principle or an egotistical idea 
that I have been endowed with capabilities which no 
other man lias. That is really the light in which 


A Problem. 


93 


this conceited soul of mine has presumed to set the 
case, as if I, and I alone, am the particular one 
whom God has ordained for this especial part of his 
work. ]Sow, all this is, perhaps, the purest egotism. 
Such delusions often are. It is possible, probable, 
that I may do more toward the accomplishment of 
my purpose by remaining quietly in the place where 
I am, and giving freely of my money and my 
prayers to assist some more efficient person to the 
w T ork. It is the mistake of hundreds of young men : 
making selfishness and conceit God’s will, crowding 
into his vineyard on the strength of their own merits, 
and forgetting that he is able to accomplish his great 
ends without their help. That is a mistake which I 
greatly desire to avoid. After all, Robin, the most 
useful lives are of those who set themselves to work 
just where .the Master places them, looking neither 
to the right nor to the left, except to find his will, 

“ Content to fill a little space, 

If thou be glorified.” 

“ Yes/’ said Robin, “ that is reasoned well enough, 
but there is such a tiling as being too content with 
our ‘little space.’ God would have us step up 
higher, and we still cling to our low place. Isn’t 
there a sort of egotism in that, too ? ” 

“ Well, if there is, it is* a sort of which few of us 
are guilty. As a general thing, people attach great 
importance to their own abilities. Ambition is a 
good thing, but common sense is better. For in- 


94 


A Golden Inheritance. 


stance, I am an excellent salesman. In the mercantile 
life I might succeed admirably. There is no egotism 
in that avowal, because I take no pride in the fact. 
In truth, I would be more gratified if it were not 
the case. A successful business man is often a pow- 
erful influence for good in the world ; instance Mr. 
Dunbar. On the other hand, I am a poor scholar. 
I always was. I have no fondness for study, no 
particular talent that I know of. I am twenty- one, 
and have not yet entered college. I am wholly with- 
out means. To get an education w T ould require a 
long, hard struggle. Years would elapse before I 
would be able even to support myself. In that 
length of time I might have hoarded up a sufficient 
sum to assist some abler and worthier brother to an 
education, and besides,” he went on, with a quiver of 
pain in his voice, “ when I consider my own great 
wrong-doing, and the evil and profligate life from 
which I have been rescued only by God’s divine 
goodness and the efforts of one grand man, I feel 
unworthy to take the lowest place. My hands, it 
may be, are too deeply stained to take within them 
this sacred office.” 

“I do not think you have any reason for that 
supposition, since you believe your sins are blotted 
out,” said Robin, hesitatingly, choosing her words 
cautiously, like one who is speaking upon a topic 
with which he is not familiar. “ Possibly that was 
God’s purpose in rescuing you. At any rate it 


A Problem. 95 

would be a serious mistake to shut your ears to his 
call, would it not ? ” 

“ It certainly would, and one from which I pray to 
be delivered ; but how am I to decide the question ? 
Is it God’s call or my own presumptuous heart which 
is urging me to this work ? I do not feel that I have 
one qualification for the ministry except the simple 
fact that my heart yearns unspeakably to the old, old 
story, as I feel that my lips can tell it more elo- 
quently, perhaps, than other lips, because I have been 
so much forgiven.” 

“Shall I tell you what I think?” asked Robin, 
looking eagerly into his troubled eyes. 

“ Certainly,” he replied, smiling ; “ I asked you to 
do so.” 

“Well, then, if I felt that God had given me 
a message which no others could deliver, I should 
hasten as fast as my feet could carry me to do his 
bidding. How I am not a Christian, Evert, I do not 
profess to be, I am not yet sure that I care to be ; but 
if I were, if I felt as you do, I should not stand and 
try to argue myself out of doing what the Lord Jesus 
had plainly commanded me to do for him.” 

“ IIow am I to know that he has commanded it ? ” 

“ By the pleading of your own heart against what 
you please to call your common sense,” laughed 
Robin. 

“ Then God’s commands and common sense are 


not in accord?” 


96 


A Golden Inheeitance. 


“ I did not say so. I said what you please to call 
your common sense.” 

44 Nothing in the world looks more impracticable 
to me than the idea of getting an education,” said the 
young man, argumentatively. 

Kobin unlatched her gate and stepped inside. 

44 I will not talk any more to you about it,” she 
said, the obstinate curves settling about her mouth. 
44 4 Where there’s a will there’s a way.’ But perhaps 
your will is only a vision. You are not in earnest, 
after all. You are right. God does not want such 
laborers in his vineyard.” 

Did Bobin Holmes form any idea of the great pain 
which throbbed through this anxious, troubled heart 
so eager to do its Master’s will, as she closed the door 
behind her, leaving him to consider her unkind words 
as he hurried on alone in the gathering darkness, try- 
ing to whistle away the sudden dash of cold water 
which those few thoughtless words had cast into the 
very midst of his zealous yearnings ? No, but his 
heavenly Father did, and he comforted him with his 
own words. At the moment he opened the sitting- 
room door, his little sister was reciting her golden 
text to her mother in the twilight. The childish tones, 
sweet and clear, came to the brother’s perplexed ear 
like the music of silver bells : 44 Every valley shall be 
exalted, and every mountain and hill shall be made 
low : and the crooked shall be made straight, and the 
rough places plain.” 


Lulu. 


97 


IX. 


LULU. 


11 These trifles ! Can it be they make or mar 
A human life ? 


Are souls as lightly swayed as rushes are 
By love or strife ? ” 



HO is here, Aunty Whipple ? ” asked Eobin, 


m catching the sound of voices from the little 
parlor as she passed through the hall. 

Aunty Whipple smiled grimly, looking over her 
spectacles at the questioning eyes. 

“ I’m sure that’s more than I can say,” she replied, 
“ but it’s as fine a young gentleman as my eyes have 
lit upon for many a day. Not so very young, either ; 
I should take him to be all of thirty.” 

“ But where did he come from, and what does he 
want ? ” interrupted Eobin, her curiosity getting the 
better of her. 

“He asked for Miss Lulu Holmes, and I guess 
likely it was her he wanted. He had the look of a 
man who knew his own business.” 

“Can it be that Lu has found a sweetheart?” 
asked Eobin, carelessly, as she hung up her hat. 

“ Well, as for the matter of that, she’s got as good 
a right as anv one, I suppose. And I can tell you, 
child, Lulu’s sweethearts used to be plenty as black- 


7 


.98 


A Golden Inheritance. 


berries. It’s only since she’s shut herself up in this 
way that they’ve shied off. Come to your supper, 
right away, Eobin. It’s been waiting a good half 
hour now. Seems to me you and that boy might cut 
your talks a little shorter. You seem to have a won- 
derful deal to say to each other, walking home to- 
gether every night. What does it mean, any how ? ” 
“ It means that we are the best of friends and en- 
joy each other’s society,” said Eobin, meeting the 
curious old eyes with a frank unembarrassed gaze. 
Eobin never thought of Evert Eussel except as a 
friend. She had no dream of lovers in those cloudy 
days while she was missing the dear mother-love so 
sorely. But Aunty Whijjple kept close watch over 
her nursling. It would never do to have the child’s 
happiness placed in careless hands. This tall, young 
fellow, with the fair hair and earnest eyes, was not so 
bad, she reasoned as she watched them nightly stop- 
ping at the gate for a last word ; but no one knew, his 
pleasant outward appearance might be deceiving. 
She had heard him spoken of as a wild fellow at one 
time in his life. True, he had changed wonderfully, 
but who could tell at what time he might return to 
his bad habits ? He had a good mother, it was true, 
but there was no trusting these young men. If he 
had the seeds of evil in him, they were likely to crop 
out again. And a wonderful intimacy seemed to have 
suddenly sprung up between him and Eobin. In fact 
Aunty Whipple did not at all approve of the way 


Lulu. 


99 


things were working. But, then, the child’s eyes 
were marvelously innocent, after all. That was not 
the way girls looked when they spoke of one in whom 
‘they were particularly interested. It was not the 
way Lulu had looked half an hour ago when her eyes 
had fallen upon the fine-looking stranger who had 
appeared at the door asking for her. 

“No great harm done yet,” soliliquized Aunty 
Whipple, nodding complacently as she watched Bobin 
eating her oysters with her keen, young appetite; 
“ and may be it’ll never amount to any thing more 
than a boy-and-a-girl affair. Poor, motherless birdie, 
I’ll take care of her as long as I can, and God has 
promised to take up them that their father and mother 
forsake.” 

“I feel interested in Lulu’s sweetheart,” said 
Bobin, as she folded up her napkin. “ I wonder if I 
could manage to get a peep at him.” 

“Well, now, seems to me I wouldn’t go peekin’ 
round. If you want to see him, make an excuse to 
go right in the room fair and square.” 

“No, no,” laughed Bobin, “that would be alto- 
gether too proper. Where would be the fun? I’ll 
wait till he goes away. Perhaps I can catch a 
glimpse of him as he comes into the hall.” 

But the visitor was strangely reluctant to depart. 
The evening wore away. Eight o’clock struck, 
nine, ten, and still he lingered. Bobin’s eyes grew 
wider and wider with astonishment. 


100 


A Golden Inheritance. 


“ The like has never been known before/’ she said. 
“ Lulu Holmes wasting three hours of her precious 
time upon an individual of the genua homo ! “ W ell, 
I shall not wait for them any longer. It bids fair to 
become a protracted meeting.” 

She went up stairs to her room frowning over the 
mystery. For some reason she did not altogether 
relish the idea of “ Lulu’s sweetheart.” It was not 
whollly a pleasant thought. What did it mean, any 
way? Was it possible that her sister would some 
time be slipping away from her, too? There had 
never existed the slightest degree of sympathy be- 
tween them, still they were all the world to each 
other upon the ground that each was all the other had 
of close kindred tie in all the world. 

“Why, what on earth will become of me if any 
one takes Lulu away ? ” pondered Bobin, throwing 
herself upon the bed, with-wide awake, troubled 
eyes. “I never thought of such a thing before. 
She seemed to be a fixture here. O, well, I wont 
worry ! Perhaps it’s only a business affair after all. 
Ho use crossing bridges until you come to them.” 

And then her thoughts wandered away to Evert 
Bussel and his earnest face as lie had spoken of his 
ambition. She had entirely forgotten her own harsh 
sounding speech at parting from him. It was merely 
the utterance of a momentary fit of pique. She had 
not meant a word of it. How she set her busy brain 
to work to devise some plan of bringing about this 


Ltjlf. 


101 


great good. That her friend was truly called of God 
she did not doubt. Indeed, no one, however preju- 
diced, could listen to the eloquence of his earnest 
voice and mark the eager sparkle of his eyes, with- 
out being impressed with a sense of his fitness for 
the work to which he so ardently aspired. Though 
Robin, as she said, was not a Christian by profession, 
and had not even decided that she desired to be, still, 
living as she had done for eighteen years in the 
brilliant, far-reaching light of her mother’s beautiful 
Christian life, she could not be otherwise than deeply 
interested in religion. With all her heart she de- 
sired the furtherance of Christ’s cause in the world, 
and in this young man she thought she saw an instru- 
ment which, with proper discipline, culture, and ex- 
perience, might be rendered capable of grand effects. 
She also saw the great disadvantages which would 
attend him in procuring an education. Some way to 
help him must be thought of. There was Mr. Dun- 
bar, but Mr. Dunbar was constantly receiving solicita- 
tions of that kind. It would not do to lay every 
body’s want upon his broad shoulders. 

But in the midst of her meditations she heard 
the street door close upon Lulu’s guest, and in a mo- 
ment after her sister softly opened the bedroom 
door. She started at the sight of the great, brown 
eyes wide open, and confronting her. 

“Why are you not asleep, Robin Holmes?” she 
questioned, trying to speak severely. But the frown 


102 


A Golden Inheritance. 


died away into a smile. Robin stared at her, won- 
dering what it was that had so suddenly transformed 
her from a pale, silent woman into a lovely, radiant 
girl. Radiant ! Why, her blue eyes shone like stars, 
and the flush in her cheeks was like the tenderest 
shading of a damask rose. As flowers which have 
long been denied the light will bloom out gloriously 
when suddenly exposed to the rays of the summer 
sun, so had Lulu’s proud, cold face blossomed beneath 
some new and strange radiance. 

The bantering speech which had been half framed 
upon Robin’s lips as she heard the light footsteps 
coming up stairs died away instantly when she caught 
sight of the lovelit face. Whatever was the source 
of the transfiguration it was not a subject for jest. 
So Robin only said, in her quietest voice, 

“ Your friend made a lengthy call?” 

“Yes.” 

Lulu was unfastening her long hair from its coils. 
As her eyes fell upon her face in the glass, she al- 
most started with surprise at the reflection, so dif- 
ferent was it from that which usually looked back 
at her. She turned suddenly to her sister. 

Robin,” she said, “do you care to listen to a 
story ? ” 

“ If it is your story, yes, indeed,” said Robin, 
eagerly. 

As Lulu sat down upon the side of the bed, the 
bright hair still falling about her shoulders, and the 


Lulu. 


103 


lamp-light still bringing out the tender tints of cheeks 
and eyes, she looked at the moment the younger of 
the two. 

“Although you are my own sister,” she began, 
slowly, almost reluctantly, “you know no more of 
my past life than the utmost stranger. Indeed, 
though we have gone in and out together for eight- 
een years, my life has been as remote from you as 
if we had lived on separate continents. Twenty-four 
hours ago nothing could have been farther from my 
thoughts and intentions than the idea of telling you 
my history, but this has been a wonderful day to me. 
O, Robin, Robin, if I could only go back ! If I 
could only live my life over for the dear mothers 
sake ! Only God knows what a trial I was to that 
sweet woman in my early girlhood. I was always 
willful and headstrong. I w r ould have my way at 
whatever cost, and I had it to my sorrow. For 
six years I suppose there has been no creature in ex- 
istence more thoroughly wretched and unhappy than 
myself. When I was sixteen I was what is usually 
considered a pretty, attractive, stylish girl. People 
were foolish enough to flatter me, and I was weak 
enough to be flattered. Consequently I became pert 
and forward and passionately fond of admiration. I 
began at once to assume silly airs and consider my- 
self in the light of a young lady while I was the 
merest school-girl. I conceived a great mania for 
society, and not being of age sufficiently mature to 


104 


A Golden Inheritance. 


exercise proper judgment with regard to the choice 
of companions, I strayed, or was led, among a set of 
giddy girls, considerably older than myself, who, 
perceiving how foolish I was and easily influenced, 
took pleasure in seeing how far they could turn my 
silly little head. This intimacy had been going on 
for some time before mother became aware of it. 
When she did discover it she spared no efforts to put 
a stop to it, but it was then too late. By that time I 
had got far beyond her gentle sway. She could no 
more control or influence me than she could restrain 
a young cataract. About this time Fred Merriam ap- 
peared upon the scene. You have seen and heard 
of him, so I will waste no words in describing him. 
What he is now he was then, an idle, good-for-noth- 
ing, dissipated fellow. But what cared I for that? 
silly ridiculous child that I was ! He could assume 
the airs of a gentleman, and I will say for him that 
in my presence he always did, which was so much 
the worse for me. If he had shown out his real char- 
acter just once, even then I would have been cured 
of my folly As it was I took a girl’s violent, undis- 
ciplined fancy to him; he returned the sentiment, 
and after a little time we were engaged. Some good 
friend of my mother’s, having discovered how the 
matter stood, gave her a warning of it. Then it was 
that mother’s strong will asserted itself. She had a 
powerful will when it was roused, but through her 
tender, almost passionate love for her fatherless chil- 


Lulu. 


105 


dren, it was only upon rare occasions that she exer- 
cised any thing but the most gentle persuasiveness in 
governing them. This time, however, she did not 
hesitate to resort to the severest measures with me. 
In less than a week I found myself miles and miles 
away from her, domesticated for an indefinite period 
at Uncle Harry’s peaceful home, in Cherry ville. I 
had fought, struggled, pleaded, and prayed against 
this arrangement, but in vain. I found that nothing 
could bend my mother when she decided not to be 
bent. Uncle Harry was like her in this respect, but 
unlike her in gentleness and tenderness. 1 had not 
been there a day before I discovered that no prisoner 
in his cell was more entirely cut off from freedom to 
act his own pleasure than was I in that quiet coun- 
try home. "What a year it was ! At first I raged, 
fretted, and fumed. When I found that there was 
no possibility of communication with my lover, I be- 
came violent, refusing to speak to any one, or to eat, 
and spending the hours, like an angry child, lying 
upon the floor of my room. But I soon became tired 
of this, because I perceived that it had not the slight- 
est effect to move the obdurate hearts of Uncle Harry 
and his wife. They treated the whole course of my 
foolish behavior as they might have treated it in a 
child of ten, taking little notice of my caprices, ex- 
cept to laugh at them, until at last, finding that all 
my fuming accomplished nothing, I gave it up. In 
the summer Halpli Hunt came there to board, and 


106 


A Golden Inheritance. 


then another lover presented himself. How a man 
like Ralph Hunt ever could conceive any possible 
attraction for me I have always been at a loss to 
comprehend ; but certain it was that he did, and, in 
daily companionship with him, I quite forgot my 
former love affair and became reconciled to life as it 
was. In the course of the summer he asked me to 
be his wife. If he had only waited a little longer ! 
It seems as if a few more months might have brought 
me to my senses. I had grown very deeply attached 
to him during the summer, but my willfulness was 
still unconquered, and inevitably destroyed my hap- 
piness. When I reflect that but for that one unfor- 
tunate remark of his I might have been Ralph 
Hunt’s wife for six long years, I feel an unutterable 
disgust for myself. 

“ £ I do not seek you without first having obtained 
your mother’s consent,’ he said. 4 1 wrote a letter 
to her upon the subject, and she not only freely 
consents to our union, but bids me say to you that it 
is the earnest wish of her heart.’ That was enough. 
I was not to be bought and sold in this manner. 
What were my mother’s wishes upon the subject to 
me ? Because she chose to smile upon one and 
frown upon the other, must I necessarily become the 
victim of her caprices? Was she to choose for me 
in this matter ? Ho ! And I resolutely lifted the 
cvown of happiness from my head and dashed it to 
the ground. 


Lulu. 


107 


“ 6 I will never marry you, Ralph Hunt,’ I said, 
stubbornly. ‘ I do not love you, and I am engaged 
to Fred Merriam.’ 

“ ‘ Fred Merriam ! ’ he exclaimed. ‘ Do you not 
know that he is married \ ’ No, I did not know it, 
nor did I care very much. At any cost my mother 
should not have her way, and so I sent this precious 
friend out of my life, and set my rebellious feet down 
upon my own heart’s longings, just to gratify that 
hateful determination not to please my mother. O 
Robin, Robin, since the day they hid my mother’s face 
away under the coffin-lid I have not ceased to thank 
God for my little sister, because he gave her one 
daughter to bless her life as the other wronged and 
embittered it!” 


108 


A Golden Inheritance. 


X. 


REGRETS. 


“ 0, self has been my end, my aim, my God, 
No wonder that I cried for rest and peace ! ” 


u ULU, how could you have cherished such an 



I 1 unkind feeling toward such a lovely mother ! ” 
exclaimed Bobin, her eyes filling with tears and her 
voice trembling with indignation. 

“ It was because the evil spirit of pride and obsti- 
nacy took possession of me, casting out every good 
impulse, and even riding relentlessly over the deepest 
cravings of my own soul. It is a mystery how people 
can break their own hearts as I broke mine, deliber- 
ately choosing a life of misery to the slightest yield- 
ing of a wretched will. When Balph Hunt went 
away he took the light out of my sky. I knew then 
that I loved him more than any earthly object. My 
childish passion for Fred Merriam was as brief as it 
was shallow. Indeed, I had scarcely bestowed a 
thought upon him all that summer. Balph Hunt 
had grown into my very existence. He was in every 
way worthy of any woman’s love and admiration. 
Thoroughly pure-minded and principled, generous to 
a fault, a sincere Christian, a thorough business man, 


Regrets. 


109 


honest and reliable in every respect, it was not strange 
that mother, with her clear insight into character, 
was willing, even anxious, to place my happiness in 
his hands. After it was too late I would have given 
worlds to recall my hasty, foolish decision, but even 
then my wicked pride stood in the way. From any 
spot in the universe a word from me would have 
recalled him, but this word I could not write. Sev- 
eral times I took my pen, determined to force my 
enemy into subjection, but it would not be put down, 
and the few lines which would have saved me days 
and years of weary struggle remained unwritten. And 
so I went on, wrapping myself up in my misery 
and shutting out the sunlight from my own life, 
which might have been a flood of warmth and bright- 
ness. And so the weary years dragged themselves 
by. Poor mother, at length worn out with the 
struggle, dropped her burden and escaped. I won- 
der if I can ever forgive myself for the suffering 
which my self-imposed misery inflicted upon her? 
If people were only considerate of the fact, when 
they make up their minds to be unhappy, that they 
themselves are not the only ones who are wronged by 
it, perhaps there would be less of such decisions 
made. Possibly we may have some small right to 
spoil our own lives — at least we think we have, be- 
cause we must be the greatest sufferers thereby ; but 
one life is so interwoven into another, that, like mu- 
sical instruments being played together, if one makes 


110 A Golden 'Inheritance. 

discord, it must necessarily destroy the harmony of 
all the rest.” 

“Well,” said Eobin, impatient for the story, 
“ what became of your hero good and true ? Did he 
die of a broken heart, or did he go off and pine 
away in the solitude of some vast wilderness, or — ” 

“Neither,” interrupted Lulu, smiling. “He did 
what any other sensible, practical, true-hearted young 
man would have done — went right ahead with his 
life-work as if nothing had happened to disturb his 
peace. Ealph Hunt is no coward, neither is he a 
weak sentimentalist. However heavy this cross may 
have been to him, and I sincerely believe that it was 
the heaviest ever laid upon him, he did not hesitate 
to shoulder it manfully, and for the rest he went 
straightforward, making the most of life as it was, 
endeavoring, since he could not gain happiness in his 
own way, to gain it in God’s way, by sweetening and 
blessing the lives of those around him and making his 
little part of the world better for his living in it ; and 
he succeeded nobly. I heard of him from time to 
time in his far-off Western home, as a successful busi- 
ness man and an honored and esteemed Christian, 
an ornament to Church and society, and I grew to 
think, as the years went by and I came gradually 
more and more to my senses, seeing more clearly 
what a pearl I had cast away, that never was a plainer 
mark of God’s divine wisdom than that which spared 
such a man as Ealph Hunt from making shipwreck 


Regrets. 


Ill 


of his happiness by a union with such a person as I, 
in my ungoverned, undisciplined girlhood.” 

She paused suddenly, her eyes growing dreamy and 
far away with a blissful light. Three years ago, when 
Lulu had applied for admission into the Church, the 
minister had asked the question, “ How do you know 
that you love Christ ? ” 

“ I do not know that I love him,” was the cold 
reply. “ I adore him supremely.” 

“ But,” said the astonished clergyman, “ do you 
not feel in your heart a great uprising of love when 
you reflect upon the sacrifice of Him who suffered 
for your sins ? ” 

“ I cannot say that I do, sir. Love is an element 
which is either wanting or entirely dormant in my 
nature. I am not sentimental, neither am I suscept- 
ible to any very strong emotion. In religion it 
seems to me uncalled for. I simply honor God, and 
worship him, and give him my heart, such as it is.” 

“Excuse me, Miss Holmes,” said the clergyman, 
kindly. “ I fear you do not thoroughly understand 
yourself. There can be no giving of the heart with- 
out love. The heart is the seat of the affections.” 

“ But I repeat, sir, that love is not an element of 
my nature. I do not love any body, as I understand 
the term. Respect and veneration are the only attri- 
butes which I can claim, and I consider them suffi- 
cient. God’s plan looks exceedingly simple, ‘ Believe 
on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved.’ 


112 


A Golden Inheritance. 


I believe in him most thoroughly. I am willing to 
accept him, and to subscribe to all the doctrines of 
your Church.” 

The gentleman was nonplussed. This plain, 
straightforward reasoning was altogether different 
from the stereotyped testimony which he was in the 
habit of receiving from the hosts of young ladies 
who came to him to be received into church fellow- 
ship. To find a young lady who confessed herself 
incapable of loving was, indeed, something new under 
the sun ! There was a quaint originality about her 
argument which was not altogether unpractical, still 
the clergyman could not see the propriety of ad- 
mitting to the sacred communion of his church one 
who acknowledged that she was not sure that she 
loved Christ. He, therefore, advised her, in his kind- 
est way, to wait a few months until her views should 
have become clearer, which he did not doubt that 
earnest prayer and a thorough consideration of the 
subject would soon render probable. But Lulu had 
never gone back, simply because she had never felt 
the blessed testimony in her heart which God re- 
quires of those who would be his. But to-night, at 
this moment, there came to her, like a strain of mu- 
sic, that most blessed of all passages when it speaks 
the experience of one’s own heart, “ I love the Lord 
because he hath heard my supplication.” To this 
vexed and disheartened soul had come at last one of 
those rare moments which come to most of us but 


Regrets. 113 

once or twice in a life-time, when every heart’s de- 
sire is fully satisfied. 

“ To-day,” she said, the happiness sparkling through 
her voice, “ he came back to me.” 

“Was his coming accidental, or did you expect 
him ? ” asked Robin. 

“ Such things are never accidental, though nothing 
could have been farther from my expectations. God 
was mindful of me, and he sent him. It seems to 
me all the clearer because his coming was not pre- 
meditated. He was staying for a few days with 
Dr. Hunt, for the first time in six years. To-night, 
as he was passing this house, some influence urged 
him to call. It was so powerful and persistent that 
he obeyed it involuntarily. He said the moment he 
looked into my eyes he saw that he need go on his 
way alone no longer. It seems that he lias clung to 
my memory all these years as if there were no other 
woman in the world. It is unaccountable to me 
that a person of his excellent judgment had not long 
ago selected some one far more worthy to fill his 
heart and home ; but, for some mysterious reason, 
God has ordained me for this great happiness.” 

“ I suppose, then, you intend to marry this brave 
knight of yours,” said Robin, trying to speak lightly, 
but with a strange break in her voice. 

“ Yes, very soon. I would have preferred to wait 
a year, but Ralph says we have already lost six years 
of happiness, and he sees no reason why we should 
• 8 


114 : 


A Golden Inheritance. 


add another. So I shall let him have his way. We 
are to be married in October.” 

“ Only a month ! ” exclaimed Robin. 

“ Six weeks. It wdll give me ample time to make 
all preparations, and I am anxions to behold this new 
Western home which has been waiting for me so 
long.” 

“ O Lulu, Lnln ! ” burst out Robin, childishly, 
“ what will become of me, all alone in the world ? ” 

“ Of you ? Why, child, you will go with me, of 
course. Do you suppose I would leave you here ? ” 

But Robin shook her head. “ No, no. Thank 
you all the same, but 1 couldn’t do it.” 

“ Couldn’t do what ? ” 

“ Be dependent upon any one, not even you.” 

“ Dependent ! What a ridiculous child yon are, 
Robin ! Don’t you know that Ralph Hunt is a rich 
man ? He mentioned the subject of his own accord, 
to-night. ( Of course, your little sister will go with 
us,’ he said. 4 Your home shall be hers, too.’ Why 
you have no idea what a brother has been waiting for 
yon all these years.” 

“ I am glad,” said Robin, “ but, Lulu, we may as 
well understand this matter at once. Your lover 
probably looks upon me as a child. I am no child. 
I can take care of myself, and I must do it. I have 
no right to cast myself upon the charity even of my 
sister. Moreover, I never will, unless I lose the use 
of my faculties.” 


Regrets. 


115 


“ Then I must give up my new-found happiness 
and stay at home just to gratify your unaccountable 
whim ! ” 

“ No, no ; a thousand times no ! ” cried Robin. 

“ Well, that is just what I shall consider myself 
under the necessity of doing if you persist in your 
determination to remain here. You are too young 
to be left in a place of this size without a guardian.” 

“ But just think, Lulu, how many girls younger 
than I all over the world 'are left to care for them- 
selves,” said Robin, eagerly. “Why am I not as 
competent as they ? Besides, there is Aunty Whip- 
ple to oversee me. I’m sure no fox could watch me 
with sharper eyes.” 

“ That does not excuse me from my responsibility. 
I should be in constant worry about you. You have 
taken away half my happiness, Robin.” 

Robin did not reply, but, as she closed her eyes to 
sleep, her last conscious thought was that the world 
was a very troublesome place to live in. 


116 


A Golden Inheritance. 


XI. 


TEMPTED. 


“ 0 little hearts, that throb and beat 
With such impatient, feverish heat, 


Such limitless and strong desires ! ” 


HEX Robin met Ralph Hunt she was well 



T t pleased. There was an honest manliness about 
him which carried her heart captive at once. The 
young man, likewise, was also won by the pleading 
brown eyes into a very sincere regard for their 
owner, and during the short weeks which intervened 
before the wedding a strong attachment sprung np 
between the two which never weakened or grew less 
through all their lives. 

“ I begin to realize what a treasure a good brother 
is,” said Robin to Florence, stopping at the door one 
Sunday on her way from church. 

“ Yes; it is one of the treasures which I can never 
have,” said the lame girl, sadly. “ Every good thing 
is denied me.” 

“ I should say that every good thing was showered 
npon you,” said Robin, smiling. 

“What do people call good things?” said Flor- 
ence, discontentedly. “ Enough to eat and drink and 
wear ? ” 


Tempted. 


117 


“ Those are certainly very good things,” laughed 
Robin. “ You would find them so if you were 
obliged to do without them.” 

“ Yes. We find out the value of things when they 
are taken from us,” sighed Florence. “ I have lost 
even my mother’s love. Love is a great blessing, 
Robin, which I will have to do without all my life. 
God’s richest gift, some one has called it.” 

“ How do you know that you will have to do with- 
out it \ Don’t go to laying that burden upon your 
poor little shoulders, Floy.” 

“ I must. No one can love a deformed girl, not 
even her own mother.” 

Judge Fairfax, in the adjoining room, lounging 
in his easy-chair, started as if something had struck 
him. What an inexpressible hopelessness w T as in the 
girl’s voice. That little golden-haired girl was the 
dearest thing this world held for him, and here she 
was sighing for some one to love. What had he 
been thinking about ? Treading life’s highway with 
haughty, unheeding footsteps, while this heart’s treas- 
ure was fainting at the road-side. He arose hastily, 
and going in to where his young daughter sat, as 
usual, upon her sofa by the window, he gathered the 
slight form in his arms, kissing cheeks and lips with 
ineffable tenderness. 

“ My darling, why have I never heard you say this 
before ? ” he questioned, as he smoothed the fair head 
which drooped upon his shoulder. 


118 


A Golden Inheritance. 


“I could not trouble you, papa. It is foolish in 
me to care so much about these things.” 

“ N o, it is not foolish ; but you are growing mor- 
bid, I fear. What can I give you that will make you 
happier ? ” 

The blue eyes wandered longingly toward her 
friend. 

“ Give me Robin,” she said, impulsively. 

“ Robin ! ” he repeated, in bewilderment. 

“ Yes. I want her, papa. She refreshes me like 
spring violets. I am so weary. O I cannot tell you, 
papa, how tired I get sitting still ! I w T ant to run 
and play, and I can’t never again in my life,” and the 
disheartened child burst into a flood of hot, miserable 
tears. 

‘‘ Why, Floy, Robin, what does this mean ? ” asked 
Judge Fairfax, turning to Robin for an explanation. 

Rut Robin could not explain. She could only 
stare at her friend with burning cheeks and troubled 
eyes. 

“I want her to come and live with us,” sobbed 
Florence. “ Her sister is going to be married, and 
she will go away off out W est and leave poor Robin 
all alone in the world, and I want her. Haven’t we 
a right to her, papa ? ” 

A light broke over the father’s face. 

“Why, certainly we have,” he said, smiling. “ Noth- 
ing could give me greater pleasure than to adopt 
you for our very own, Robin. You are fatherless, 


Tempted. 


119 


motherless, and alone. I have room in my heart 
for another daughter, my dear. Why will you not 
come ? ” 

Robin looked thoughtfully away to the clouds. 
She had an innate consciousness that this plan would 
not meet with the approbation of her sister. Had 
she been entirely alone in the world she would have 
flown into this beautiful shelter as a delightful refuge 
from the storms of life which were beginning to beat 
about her. Poor, lonely Robin ! she felt strangely 
tempted to-day to drop down upon the bed of flowers 
which she found spread out before her in the path 
which was growing every day more and more diffi- 
- cult for her little stumbling feet. Nothing could be 
more cordial than the invitation which she had re- 
ceived from both Judge Fairfax and his wife to 
make her home with them, and, as for Florence, the 
wistful eyes fairly pained her with their intense 
pleading. She had now only to reach out her hand 
and accept the treasure of a beautiful home, wealth, 
luxury, love, admiration, cultivation, honor. Yes, 
she well knew that as Judge Fairfax’s adopted 
daughter she would be exalted to the highest place 
in the society of Burlington, whereas she was now 
only Mr. Dunbar’s book-keeper, a young person of no 
possible account in the fashionable w T orld. But then, 
what would Lulu say ? Ah, that was the question. 
Both she and her intended husband earnestly desired 
to take this young sister to their own far-away home, 


120 


A Golden Inheritance. 


and had they not the first claim upon her? What 
right had she to prefer Florence Fairfax to her own 
sister? the sister which God had given her. The 
fact that she did she could not conceal, even from 
her own heart, for all her life Lulu had shut herself 
away from the little sister who was growing up at 
her side, meeting her every advance with a repulse, 
until Eobin had come to regard her as a cold, unap- 
proachable critic, who had not, nor could ever be, 
even to the least degree, in sympathy with her. 
Florence, on the other hand, had grown into her 
heart from her earliest childhood. Their attachment 
dated from the day that Mrs. Fairfax had picked up 
little five-year old Eobin, whom she found lost in the 
street, and taken her home in her own carriage with 
her petted darling. From that hour the two lives 
had blended into each other until one had scarcely a 
thought which the other did not share. 

It was, therefore, not strange that life with Flor- 
ence should look far more attractive than life with 
Lulu, for even though, beneath the influence of her 
new-found happiness, Lulu was growing sweeter day 
by day, the bond of sympathy between them must 
always be w r anting, and Eobin had all a young girl’s 
intense longing for sympathy and appreciation. 
There was, however, in Eobin Holmes's character a 
strong sense of loyalty. If she accepted this tempt- 
ing offer, she must virtually renounce her sister. Ho 
one had said so, and yet she knew, by that fine intui- 


Tempted. 


121 


tion witli which she was gifted, that when she became 
an inmate of the aristocratic house of Fairfax she 
must unconsciously drift, each day, farther and far- 
ther away from every home tie and association ; for, 
although both she and they w T ere well aware that the 
healthy blood coursing through her veins was as blue 
as their own, still the fact that her mother and sister 
had been compelled to earn their bread by the labor 
of their own hands was one which the Fairfax house- 
hold would never, for one moment, lose sight of. 
True, marriage with Ralph Hunt would raise Lulu to 
a position of the utmost respect and esteem, still the 
recollection that she had been her seamstress would 
remain in Mrs. Fairfax’s shallow heart until the end 
of time, as an insurmountable barrier to any thing 
like social equality. Robin was a bright, pretty girl. 
She had a fair education, a fine musical accomplish- 
ment, and was in every way fitted to shine in Mrs. 
Fairfax’s circle. She was, therefore, willing to adopt 
her as her own. Her “ very own” it must be, however. 
There could be no mixing of things. When she came 
among them her old life, with all its tender associa- 
tions, must be only a memory. Thus had Mrs. Fair- 
fax reasoned within her when she made her proposal 
to Robin, and the young girl felt this reasoning 
instinctively, though no word of it had been uttered. 
She shrank, therefore, in some dismay as she realized 
that there might be thorns, and sharp ones, even here 
among the roses. 


122 


A Golden Inheritance. 


Judge Fairfax watched Bobin’s face curiously as 
she hesitated. There was evidently a struggle going 
on within, and the gentleman was at a loss to com- 
prehend why an invitation so irresistible as his must 
have seemed to this lonely girl should require this 
long debate. 

“ Well, Bobin,” he said, at length, “is the question 
so hard to decide ? ” 

Bobin looked up quickly. She had almost forgot- 
ten in her perplexity that these people were waiting 
for her reply. 

“ You are very kind, indeed, sir,” she began, hesi- 
tatingly. “ I cannot sufficiently express my thanks, 
and yet I do not see how I can reasonably accept your 
most generous offer.” 

“ May I inquire as to your reasons for declining ? ” 

“Well, sir,” said Bobin, her color rising and her 
eyes growing luminous, “if I were an invalid, or in 
any other way disabled, I might with all propriety 
accept your hospitality, rendering myself, in return, 
as useful and agreeable as circumstances would ad- 
mit ; but why I, a young person possessed of health 
and vigor, should cast myself upon the generosity of 
any person, however willing to assume the burden, I 
cannot fully comprehend.” 

Judge Fairfax’s eyes flashed sympathetically. He 
could appreciate independence wherever he saw it. 
The revelation of the spirit only made him the more 
anxious to secure this brightness for his own home. 


Tempted. 


123 


“But, my dear,” he said, craftily, “you are not 
looking upon the matter in its proper light. The 
favor is one of bestowal on your part, not acceptance. 
Indeed, I shall consider myself greatly indebted to 
you if you will come.” 

Robin arose hastily. She must be alone to think. 

“ I cannot decide at once,” she said ; “ there are 
many things to be considered besides my own desire. 
Be assured, if that were all, I would not hesitate an 
instant.” 

Florence followed her to the door. 

“ Robin, you said you would come, if God opened 
the door. Hasn’t he done so plainly enough ? What 
are you waiting for % ” 

“For a wind to blow it wider open, I suppose,” 
laughed Robin. 

Florence smiled sadly. 

“Even that would not convince you,” she said. 
“ You will wait to be blown in.” 


124 


A Golden Inheritance. 


XII. 

PERPLEXED. 

“ He cares for me ! Why do I fret 
At every little ill, 

And vex myself so needlessly ? 

0, heart, be still 1 ” 

F LORENCE watched her friend with hungry, un- 
satisfied eyes, as she ran down the broad stone 
steps. u She will never come to us, papa/’ she said, 
hopelessly. “ Something stands in the way that we 
cannot see.” 

“ Perhaps that is the obstacle,” said her father, 
smiling significantly as he nodded toward a very tall 
young man who had overtaken Robin at the door 
and was walking along at her side. 

“ Evert Russel ? O no. She likes him well enough, 
but there is nothing serious in the liking. He isn’t 
half worthy of her.” 

“ Possibly not ; but such girls are not apt to be 
wise. She is just the one to throw herself away.” 

“No, she is not. You don’t know Robin, papa. 
She rushes on headlong and turns sharp corners, but 
she seldom dashes her foot upon a stone. The angels 
have charge over her, I think.” 

Robin, meanwhile, was pouring out her difficulties 


Perplexed. 


125 


in the interested ear of her friend. Some confidante, 
some adviser, she felt that she must have, and besides 
she had grown into the habit of telling her difficulties 
to Evert Russel. 

“ Why, Robin,” he said, when she had concluded 
her story, “it does most certainly seem as if you 
ought to accept of this offer, since it is pressed upon 
you so repeatedly, and the way so plainly cleared for 
you ; and yet it may not be the right thing. We are 
apt to take matters too much for granted, especially 
w r hen self-interest steps in and pleads the case. It 
would be too bad to misinterpret God in this matter, 
for it is one which must necessarily affect your whole 
life.” 

“ I cannot make it seem quite the right thing,” said 
Robin, meditatively. “ The more I puzzle over it 
the less clear it looks. Is it always wrong to do 
pleasant things, or is it because we have been edu- 
cated to the idea ? ” 

“ Stolen waters are always the sweetest. On the 
same principle our desires are nearly always after 
those things which would be hurtful to us. It seems 
to be a law of human nature that it must crave most 
those things which God would withhold.” 

“ I don’t see why,” said Robin, impatiently. “ Do 
you know it seems to me as if every pleasant way in 
the world is the wrong way, and every unpleasant 
one the right.” 

“Well, in a great measure it is so. We are so 


126 A Golden Inheritance. 

constituted that our tastes usually lie in the wrong 
direction.” 

“ But I cannot understand,” pursued Bobin, anx- 
ious to persuade her rebellious heart in accordance 
with its desires, “ wherein it can be so very wrong 
for me to accept of this opportunity. From every 
stand-point it looks a grand one. Most young ladies 
would not hesitate a moment, and, laying selfishness 
aside, what a whole world of cheer I could throw 
across poor little Floy’s troubled life ! I pity that 
child from my heart. She seems like a flower shut 
away from the sun, or a bird with a broken wing. 
Surely there could be no more acceptable service ren- 
dered to God than the smoothing out of Floy’s rough 
places.” 

“ FTo, and yet — ” He paused, looking doubtfully 
into the perplexed face at his side. 

“ Go on,” she said, irritably. “ Yet what ? ” 

“We must not forget that the dear Lord is able 
to accomplish his wise designs without our help. 
Our way is not always, not often, indeed, his way. 
It is just possible that your influence might, in some 
manner, interfere with his own designs regarding 
Floy. It is always best to look at all sides of a ques- 
tion of this kind before deciding it, is it not ? ” 

“ I am not sure that it is,” replied Bobin, petu- 
lantly. “ At your rate one would spend a life-time 
deciding a question, and die with it undecided. It 
is sometimes best to trust to an impulse. Any way, 


Perplexed. 127 

I would rather go ahead blunderingly than stand still 
all my life for fear of making a mistake.” 

The young man shook his head, smiling. “I 
would not like to be obliged to choose between those 
two evils, because I have no idea which would be the 
least ; but one thing is certain, I shall take no im- 
portant step in life without caution.” 

“ Yes, caution ! That is the rock upon which you 
will flounder in the end. Mark my words, Evert, it 
is just that word which stands in the way of half the 
world now. They are afraid to take the first step in 
any new enterprise from the fear of a mistake. 
Consequently they find themselves all their lives in 
the very spot where they were first put. They stay 
put. They wear themselves out of caution, and at 
last they die of caution. You may rest assured that 
I never shall. When a course of action strikes me 
as the right one I shall pursue it at once. I would 
rather rush into it blindfolded than stand afar off 
and look at it through the dusty old spectacles of 
c%ution.” 

“ That is just the difference between us,” said 
Evert, with an unconscious sigh. It was not a pleas- 
ant thought. Somehow, he scarcely knew why, he 
wanted to blend this young life into his own. He 
wanted her to be in perfect sympathy with him. 
That she was not was growing more and more ap- 
parent, for she not only differed from him in opinion, 
but strongly opposed him, lieadstrongly asserting her 


128 


A Golden Inheritance. 


own opinion as tlie right, and liis as the wrong one. 
There was also a willfulness about her disposition 
which jarred somewhat upon that wonderful ideal of 
womanly sweetness and yielding which he had built 
up in his boyish soul. Here, then, was a flaw in his 
idol which, though he comprehended it not, was 
altogether wholesome for his too ardent nature. He 
w r as fast setting this girl friend upon a throne in his 
imagination which, as yet, she was unworthy to fill. 
Poor Kobin was far from perfect. She was just a 
weak, stumbling girl, with a nature which would 
round out into loveliness only after God should have 
loosened from her clinging, childish grasp all the 
weak and frail supports which her self-conceit had 
built up as safeguards along the dusty road of life, 
and taught her to walk alone with her fingers clasped 
in the strong hand of his divine love. As yet she 
was only beginning to walk at all, taking the first 
steps weakly, catching at the most inadequate sup- 
ports for help. She would not do so all her life, for 
God, in his own sure way, was directing her eyes to 
the hills from whence all strength comes. After a 
while, when her eyes have caught the splendor of the 
hills, she will wonder why they have been so long 
content to rest upon dull, dead plains. Such is the 
difference between a narrow vision and a broad. 

“ Something troubles the child,” said Ealpli Hunt 
to Lulu that night. He had caught a glimpse of 
her face through the window, bending, puzzled and 


Perplexed. 129 

weary, over the pages of a Bible which lay upon 
her lap. 

“Yes. I cannot imagine what it is, unless she is 
missing the dear mother so much. Perhaps you 
would be able to draw her out. Suppose you try.” 

He arose quietly and strolled into the room where 
Robin sat turning over the leaves of her Bible. 
“Here is something which a young friend of yours 
intrusted to me for delivery,” he said, carelessly toss- 
ing a letter into her lap. He watched her face nar- 
rowly as* she opened it and read. It was very short : 

“ Dear Robin : I want to ask you once again not 
to decide your question without consulting God. If 
you cannot do it from love, do it from principle. 
“Yours hopefully, Evert Russel.” 

Robin’s lip curled slightly as she put the letter into 
her pocket. 

“ That young man seems to be greatly interested in 
you,” said Ralph, cautiously. 

“ He thinks of me as lost upon the mountains. I 
believe he is trying to find me and bring me home,” 
said Robin, simply. 

“ What ! ” 

“ Do you not understand ? He wants to see me 
safe in the fold of his Shepherd. lie watches for 
souls.” 

“ Do you mean that he is a Christian \ ” 

9 


130 


A Golden Inheritance. 


“ I am sure of it, if there is one in existence. He 
is so anxious to do God’s work, it is a pity he cannot 
have the opportunity.” 

“ Why can he not ? Most people can find oppor- 
tunities if they look for them.” 

“But his heart is set on preaching. Ralph, you 
are wise in such matters, do you not think when God 
puts a great desire in any one’s soul that that desire 
may be interpreted as an expression of his will con- 
cerning it ? ” 

“ Certainly, if God puts the desire there. The 
question is whether it is God’s inspiration or some 
worldly motive.” 

“ Does a worldly motive ever induce any one to 
give up his life to the service of Christ ? ” 

“ In the work of the ministry ? Indeed, I fear the 
desire quite frequently proceeds from a selfish mo- 
tive. There are many people in the world whose 
tastes and inclinations point to such a work, who are 
really actuated by very little of the spirit of Christ. 
It is a position which commands the respect and' 
honor of the Christian w'orld. It is less arduous 
and confining than many other pursuits, it usually 
1 insures a comfortable support, and these desirable 
things are the all-important ones in the lives of many, 
I fear, who consider themselves faithful laborers in 
the Lord’s vineyard.” 

“ But suppose you are certain that the desire pro- 
ceeds from none of these motives. In the case of 


Perplexed. 


131 


Evert Russel it is impossible that they should exist. 
He is now occupying an excellent position, and one 
for which he has the greatest natural ability and 
adaptation. He would decidedly prefer remaining 
where he is, to undertaking the very difficult task of 
educating himself for the ministry. Indeed, the 
thing looks like an impossibility just now. He would 
have to work his way step by step. It would be a 
long process. He would be middle-aged before he 
was ready to take up his life-work.” 

“ That is not usually desirable, and yet in his case 
it might be most profitable. Some of us mature very 
slowly. We require many years to attain to the wis- 
dom which is desired. Perhaps, however, it may 
be,” he added, meditatively, u that this friend of 
yours is the very one.” 

“ The very one ? ” repeated Robin, inquiringly. 

“Yes, the very one I am waiting for. Years ago, 
when I was a boy, my mother earnestly desired that 
I should study for the ministry. She had consecrated 
me to that work, she said, from the hour of my birth, 
and it had been her constant prayer that the hope 
might be fulfilled. But, for some reason or other, I 
never had the slightest inclination to become a minis- 
ter. I could not feel myself in any way called to the 
important work, and much as I desired to gratify 
my mother’s ambition concerning me, I found it im- 
possible to reconcile myself to the idea of accepting a 
life for which I was so wholly unadapted. I there- 


132 


A Golden Inheritance. 


fore made this proposal to her, that if she would set 
aside a sufficient amount of money for the purpose, I 
would use it at my discretion in the education of 
some young man whom I should consider worthy of 
the high calling, that is, if I should find one wholly 
dependent upon his own resources. As yet I have 
never come across the young man, though I have 
been looking for him with great diligence, especially 
since my mother’s death.” 

“ Well, then, I think if you knew Evert* Russel 
you would be sure you had found him,” said Robin, 
eagerly ; “ though,” she added, the eagerness drop, 
ping out of her voice, “ I doubt if he would be will- 
ing to be indebted to you or any one else for this 
large favor.” 

“ He would not be indebted to me or any one else 
but God. The money is waiting for the man, not 
the man for the money. He may consider it but a 
means to an end. It will never be used for any 
other purpose.” 

“ Then do you think my friend is really the one ? ” 
asked Robin, anxiously. 

“ I cannot tell until I have looked into his heart. 
It scarcely seems so to my practical eyes. If I were 
consulting his interests for this world I should advise 
him to remain where he is. It does not look alto- 
gether sensible to forsake a good position in life for 
a venture, and yet it is just what the Lord demanded 
of his disciples of old. I see no reason why we 


Perplexed. 


133 


should be more privileged to serve God in our own 
way because we live in this generation. I have no 
doubt those illiterate fishermen were possessed of the 
same practical ideas concerning this life as we of the 
present day. It probably cost them just as much of 
an effort to relinquish their own plans and step aside 
upon the Master’s errands as it costs us. They did 
not, however, hesitate to obey his commands. They 
went as he directed.” 

“ But it is no effort for Evert Russell ; he longs to 
do it, and he is trying every day to convince himself 
that he ought to give up the idea. lie seems to be 
struggling against the convictions of his heart.” 

“Well, Robin, I will see this hero of your story 
and talk with him, and study him. I will have ample 
opportunity to do so during the few remaining days 
which I am to spend here. In the meantime by no 
means give your friend the slightest hint of my pur- 
pose regarding him. I wish to understand his views, 
independent of my proposal. I want to probe his heart 
thoroughly, in order to discover just how much of 
self is the governing power. It is far easier to serve 
Christ after the thorns are taken out of the way than 
when one is obliged to hew his path ahead of him as 
he goes. I shall decide the matter without partiality 
and to the best of my judgment. Hot that I consider 
myself in any way competent to assert whether or not 
this young man is called of God, but only to make 
use of such ability as I am gifted with, in deciding 


134 A Golden Inheritance. 

whether or not he would have him set apart for his 
service.” 

Robin sat late into the night, turning over the 
leaves of her Bible, in the vain, childish hope that her 
eye might catch some word which would map out the 
future for her. But no such word met the troubled 
eyes. They had not yet learned to look upward to 
the hills ; therefore help came not. That calm, set- 
tled trust in God, which keeps the soul steady amid 
the severest storms, was not yet hers. 


In Octobek. 


135 


XIII. 

IN OCTOBER. 

“ Love is ever busy with his shuttle, 

Is ever weaving into life’s dull warp 
Bright, gorgeous flowers, and scenes Arcadian.” 

T HE wedding was over. Every thing had passed 
oil beautifully, as things usually do upon these 
momentous occasions. It was a very quiet affair, and 
yet the small house seemed fairly running over with 
guests, relatives nearly all of them; but when the 
family friends on -two sides come together upon a 
wedding occasion, they usually make the house seem 
full. Aunty Whipple had exerted herself to her 
utmost ability in the entertainment of the guests, and 
she had succeeded admirably. 

Just now, however, the good woman was not vis- 
ible. She had stolen away to the pantry to wipe 
away, on the corner of her apron, a few tears which 
w r ould overflow from her eyes at the memory of the 
dear heart which had borne long years of aching 
desire for the consummation of the very event which 
this morning had witnessed. 

“I s’pose God knows best,” she muttered, brokenly; 
“ but it does seem as if lie might have let her lived 
long enough to see her heart’s desire in this thing. 


136 


A Golden Inheritance. 


It don’t seem fair, somehow, to take the dear soul 
away from the good after she’d had all the evil to go 
through. Any way, I hope he will let her know it 
where she is.” 

O, Aunty Whipple, Aunty Whipple ! poor, blind, 
unreasoning soul ! As if the dear heart needed any 
thing of earth to increase its full enjoyment in that 
blissful country of eternal flowers. 

Down stairs every thing was in that delightful 
state of confusion which always pervades the break- 
ing up of a festive gathering. Uncles, aunts, and 
cousins hurrying to and fro, some preparing for a 
hasty departure, others less hurried gathering in so- 
ciable knots of twos and threes, to talk it over, with 
good wishes and kindly words. Thank God, the 
spirit of kindness and good-will always prevails at a 
wedding assembly! Very few young people are so 
unfortunate as to start out in life with bitter words 
rankling in their hearts. 

Up stairs the bride was hastily laying aside her 
wedding finery and robing herself in her traveling 
costume. A pair of wet brown eyes, following every 
movement, beheld her at length equipped in a rich, 
dark silk, with creamy lace at the throat. A felt hat 
with brown feathers drooping over the fair hair, a 
stylish wrap hanging over her arm ; dress, hat, gloves, 
ribbons, every thing the softest shade of brown. 

“ As fair, pale, rare, and stylish a bride as ever went 
forth from this town,” pronounced Robin, inwardljq 


In Octobek. 


137 


as leaning upon tlie bureau she took it all in, together 
with the fact that she was watching Lulu dressing 
there for the last time. The last time ! 

“ O, Lu, Lu ! ” she cried, with a sudden impulse, 
throwing her arms around the tall, graceful figure, 
“ if I have ever caused you a heart-ache, forgive 
me ! ” 

Lulu loosened the clinging arms, pushed away the 
tumbled hair from her sister’s beautiful forehead, and 
looked deep into the misty eyes. 

“It is I who should ask that of you, little one. 
You have never been any thing but a blessing 
to me.” 

“ O, but I have,” said Eobin, the memory of 
thoughtless, teasing words and petty unkindnesses 
crowding thick and fast. u I might have remem- 
bered that you had every thing to bear. You don’t 
know how I rejoice in your happiness, Lu. What a 
blessed day this would have been for dear mamma ! ” 

“ Perhaps she knows it. I have a feeling somehow 
that she does,” murmured Lulu, choking. “There!” 
she added, dashing away a tear or two as she heard 
her husband’s step on the stairs ; “I promised myself 
that I would not cry on my wedding-day. Now, 
Eobin,” clasping the small hands tightly in her own, 
“ as soon as I get fairly settled in my new home you 
are to come to me. Promise ! ” 

“ If God sends me,” said Eobin, with her bright 
smile. 


138 


A G©lden Inheritance. 


“ If God sends you ! ” repeated her sister. “ When 
did you become so dependent upon God ? Are you 
a Christian, Eobin ? ” 

“ No ; but I am all alone, you know, and I have 
fallen into the habit of telling every thing to God.” 

“ Then you are not far from the kingdom,” said 
Ealpli, who had entered so quietly that they had not 
perceived him. “ I wish you joy, my sister,” he 
added, stooping to kiss the quivering bps. “ Come, 
my wife, the carriage is at the door. God bless you, 
Eobin, and send you to us speedily ! ” 

Lulu echoed the words, looking back an instant 
from the carriage window at the slight, girlish form 
standing alone in the door-way. The white dress, 
with its floating black ribbons, the rich hair shining 
goldenly in the warm October sunshine, and the wet, 
brown eyes, striving to beam a merry good-bye after 
them, struck the sister’s heart so pathetically that, in 
spite of all her efforts to keep them back, a few tears 
would crowd into her eyes. 

“ That poor, lonely child ! ” she said, her head 
drooping for an instant upon her husband’s shoulder. 
“ Who will comfort her ? ” 

“ If I am not mistaken she has a more blessed 
Comforter than either you or I would prove, and, for 
the rest, she must learn the lessons of life with the 
rest of us. It is bitter-sweet to all the world.” 

The bride looked radiantly up to the blue sky, 
which arched so lovingly over the just and unjust 


In October. 


139 


on this her wedding-day. It was easy to leave all 
things in God’s hands just now, for with her hand 
resting in the warm, close clasp of the friend who 
had been true to her through long years of doubt 
and estrangement, the world held nothing of bitter to 
her, only life’s richest sweet. 

But to Robin, still standing lonesomely in the 
door-way, looking up at the same sunny sky, all 
things were very somber. The autumn leaves were 
drifting sadly over her mother’s grave. The carriage 
which bore her sister away from her home forever 
had already whirled her out of her sight. Tn the 
house only the utmost disorder and desolation 
reigned. It was like “some banquet hall deserted.” 
Every-wliere the departed guests had left tokens of 
their presence — a handkerchief, a glove, a flower, a 
bit of cake upon the carpet, chairs standing together 
in groups, the open piano, with stray sheets of music 
scattered over it ; every- where something to suggest 
the melancholy fact that the wedding was over and 
the bridal party flown. 

Dr. Hunt and his small wife, stepping for an in- 
stant into the deserted parlor on their way out, found 
Robin seated disconsolately upon the piano-stool, like 
a warrior upon the ruins of the battle-field, viewing 
the remnants of departed glories with dismal eyes. 

“ Keep up a brave heart, lassie,” said the doctor, 
jokingly, pinching the round, flushed cheek, “ they 
haven’t left you so far in the distance after all ; 


140 A Golden Inheritance. 

you’ll be finding your own nest one of these 
days.” 

Robin turned away, petulantly. She was in no 
mood to receive jesting to-day. But Mrs. Hunt, who 
understood the tired girl-heart far better than her 
husband, drew the bright head upon her shoulder, as 
her own mother might have done. 

“ These partings are hard to bear, are they not, my 
dear?” she said, cheerily; “ but we have all gone 
through the same trials and lived through* them. 
The best part of it is that we who have plenty to do 
soonest live them down. And there’s a vast deal of 
brightness, even in this sad world, if we are only 
willing to receive it. 

“ ‘ Do not look at life’s long sorrow, 

Think how small each moment’s pain.’ ” 

“ And when your feathers get wet fly to us, little 
bird,” smiled Dr. Hunt, as they went out together. 

Few and unstudied words they were, but somehow 
they lifted a trifle of the weight from Robin’s heart. 

“ The best way to escape a fit of the blues is to go 
to work,” she said, resolutely. “ It is too late to go 
back to the store, but surely there’s enough to do 
here.” 

The two o’clock train had taken away the last of 
the guests, and thus Robin found a clear field for her 
energies. 

“ Seems to me some one of ’em all might a ’stayed 


In October. 


141 


with you a day or two till you got Over the first lone- 
someness,” growled Aunty Whipple, as she washed 
the precious old china and turned it up on the tea- 
server for Robin to wipe. 

“ I believe, on the whole, I’m glad they all went,” 
said Robin, reflectively. “ I’d rather fight it down 
at once, and to morrow I shall want to go back to the 
store, you know, and if I had company I might be 
tempted to ask a few days’ vacation, which would do 
me no good, and perhaps bother Mr. Dunbar a great 
deal. So, altogether, we will make the best of it. 
I am not so badly off as I might be, for I have my 
home and you to take care of me, which is far more 
than hundreds of others are blessed with.” 

“ Yes, there never was any body so bad off yet but 
what they might be worse,” said Aunty Whipple, 
tersely. 

Robin’s spirits rose as she worked. There certainly 
was plenty to do. The whole house was tossed up 
and disordered. From room to room went Robin, 
plying broom and duster, opening every window and 
letting the pure air flood every dark, close corner, 
while the very walls seemed to dance with the danc- 
ing sunbeams that flitted over them. 

Evert Russel, going past at five o’clock, caught the ^ 
low, sweet trilling of a song, and stepped noiselessly 
in at the open door. The picture which met his 
eyes was that of Robin, in an immense kitchen 
apron, which entirely covered her dress, and a dust- 


142 A Golden Inheritance. 

ing cap drawn over her brown locks, vigorously 
sweeping the parlor carpet. 

“ I expected to find you drenched in tears and be- 
moaning your fate with rent garments and disheveled 
hair,” he said, with an affected tone of astonishment. 

“And instead, you find me demolished in clouds 
of dust, bemoaning my fate in a not over-clean apron 
and hair invisible. Don’t come in here, there isn’t a 
chair for you to sit on. Just stand still where you 
are until I take up this dust.” 

She brandished her broom at him, laughing, and 
he was glad to make his escape into the clear out- 
door air. 

“ Now,” said Robin, in a few moments coming out, 
divested of her domestic attire, with hair slightly 
roughened and hands red with their unaccustomed 
work, “ I am prepared. You are a friend, indeed, 
to come with offers of consolation in this my great 
extremity.” 

Face and voice were entirely sober, and, looking 
up into his eyes, she caught a sudden rush of sym- 
pathy. 

“Then, you are feeling your lonesomeness, after 
all ? You looked so bright and sang so merrily that I 
thought — ” 

“ What did you think ? ” 

“ That you were going to tide it over without 
much difficulty, that — ” 

“ That I was going to live through it, you mean ! 


In October. 


143 


"Well, I really believe I am.” And Robin’s laugh, 
her old, natural laugh that had nothing forced about 
it, rang out merrily, bringing a suggestion of music 
to the ears of Aunty Whipple, who was counting the 
silver spoons in the kitchen. 

“ I am so glad to hear you say so,” began the 
young man ; and then they both laughed together. 

“ O ! ” said Evert, suddenly sobering, “ I came 
near forgetting my errand. Florence stopped me 
as I was passing this afternoon, to send this message 
to you. The Fairfax carriage will be at the door for 
you at half past six. You are to stay all night, and 
as many more nights as you can reconcile your con- 
science to.” 

“Poor Floy,” said Robin, reflectively, “how she 
does cling to that thought ! I believe it will end in 
my going there for life yet. I never had such hard 
work to make up my mind to any thing before. I 
usually jump at conclusions. I wish Flo had never 
conceived the idea. If she must have some one, 
why in the world couldn’t she have selected some 
one else? There are dozens of young girls, even 
here in Burlington, who would be delighted to go. 
Why, of all the multitude, must her foolish fancy 
light on me ? ” 

Her young friend, looking down at her, as she 
stood at his side in the soft light of the sunset, 
thought it w T as not at all strange, but he did not say 
so, he only asked quietly, 


144 


A Golden Inheritance. 


“Will you go to-night ? ” 

“Yes; it seems too bad to leave Aunty Whipple 
all alone, but she hasn’t the slightest fear. She says 
it is only a guilty conscience that is afraid of the 
dark.” 

“ Do you know, Florence has a visitor ? ” he asked, 
in a slightly constrained voice, after a moment’s 
pause. 

“No. Who?” 

“Philip Fairfax.” 

“ Cousin Phil ! Is it possible that I am to have 
the honor of meeting that paragon in the flesh ? ” 

“ Then you desire to meet him ? ” 

“ Certainly. It has been my life-long ambition. 
Ever since I can remember I have heard of the 
beauty, virtues, and fascinations of this wonderful 
Cousin Phil. I have come to regard him as a prince 
of the blood, and to consider it the greatest possible 
distinction to be presented to his acquaintance.” 

“ Well, then, as you may need your time to prepare 
for your presentation at court, I will not detain you 
longer.” And with the least perceptible sigh he 
turned to go. But Bobin laid her hand upon his 
arm and looked into his eyes with a smile. 

“You are not going without telling me of your 
own plans ? ” she said, inquiringly. 

“ Ah, then, it was your work, after all ! ” said her 
friend, his honest face flushing with pleasure at the 
thought. “ Thank you, Bobin.” 


In October. 145 

He took the small hand from his shoulder and 
held it tight. 

“ What are you thanking me for ? ” 

“ For sending that splendid brother of yours to 
me. God knows I can never thank you enough. I 
was sure you had a hand in it.” 

“ I had very little, but I cannot tell you how 
greatly I rejoice with you. You will, then, accept 
his offer ? ” 

“ Certainly ; I could not do otherwise. I have no 
choice in the matter. He said it was God’s offer. 
Bobin, I could not refuse that.” 

“No, no,” said Bobin, with tears of thanksgiving 
in her eyes ; “ when will you begin your studies ? ” 

“Bight away, and right here. I shall enter the 
university as soon as I am able. You ought to have 
seen my mother’s eyes last night when I told her. 
Their shining would have done your heart good. O, 
Bobin, Bobin, God bless you!” and, unable to trust 
himself further, he broke away suddenly, and rushed 
off with his hat pulled over his eyes. 

The “ God bless you ” lingered in Bobin’s ears. It 
had a pleasant sound. This was the second time to- 
day that it had been spoken to her. 

And Bobin, looking away at the rosy sunset, felt 
that, in spite of all her troubles, God was surely bless- 
ing her. 

10 


146 


A Golden Inheritance. 


XIY. 

KING PHILIP. 

“ Build on, and make thy castles high and fair, 

Rising and reaching upward to the skies.” 

B UT two hours later, enthroned in luxurious state 
upon a pinsh-covered chair in Mrs. Fairfax’s 
drawing-room, Robin had very little recollection of 
Evert Russel or his parting benediction. Indeed, 
she had no inclination at that moment to go back, 
either in fancy or reality, to the prosaic matters of 
every-day life, from this fairy land in which she was 
so gorgeously reposing. All this beauty and refine- 
ment were exquisitely soothing to the irritated brain 
which was growing so weary of fretting care. It 
was sweet to rest here and dream that these things 
were her inheritance, and that she might revel in 
them all her life. 

Philip Fairfax was entertaining Robin in his most 
charming style. He was certainly all that enthusi- 
astic little Florence had represented him ; a more 
perfect specimen of manly beauty and elegant man- 
ners than Robin’s unsophisticated eyes had ever yet 
beheld. He could talk well, too, his voice was soft 
and musical, his language chaste and w T ell chosen. 


King Philip. 


147 


Added to .these accomplishments he was a trifle 
world-weary; a fact which just now only increased 
his power to render himself agreeable. His ten years’ 
experience in the whirl of fashionable life and 
society had worn upon him. He had lost his keen 
enjoyment of these bewildering things. People usu- 
ally do, after the first glamour has worn off. The 
Dead Sea fruit crumbles quickly in the hands which 
grasp most eagerly after it. Hungry human souls 
cannot long be satisfied with that which is fair only 
to the outward eye.. They must taste, and once tast- 
ing, ever turn aside with inexpressible disgust from 
the unsatisfying bitterness. 

Philip Fairfax, in his twenty-eight years of exist- 
ence, had tasted again and again in the vain hope of 
finding upon the tree of pleasure some perfect fruit, 
but as often as he tasted was he disappointed, until 
at length he had come to regard life as something to 
be endured. 

Alas for such poor, mistaken souls ! There are 
kind hands enough to point them to the more sub- 
stantial fruit, but it grows too high ; the effort to ob- 
tain it is too great for their earthly weakness. Thus 
they stumble on through the hot race of life, missing 
the good which every-where waits to enrich them. 
It will not drop unsought in their hands, and so they 
fail to secure it. 

Thus had Philip Fairfax fluttered through those 
precious days of . youth which are ours but once, and 


148 


A Golden Inheritance. 


which, if wasted, waste with them the very cream of 
life. Every thing had lost its interest, its zest, and he 
found himself continually reaching back again to 
grasp after his lost youth, and becoming more and 
more conscious each day that it had vanished out of 
his sight forever. 

To-night, however, for the first time in many 
months, Philip Fairfax awoke to the consciousness 
that he was obtaining a momentary interest in some- 
thing besides himself. That something was nothing 
more or less than a young girl. Young ladies, as 
a rule, bored and annoyed him; fashionable young 
ladies, with their crimped hair and high shoes, their 
idle chatter and silly laughing. But Robin Holmes 
was not one of them. There was a dewy freshness 
about her which beamed upon him as a sweet spring 
morning, aflush wdth flowers and birds and dew-drops, 
might dawn upon eyes that were weary of gas-light 
and glare. 

Robin, indeed, had scarcely yet passed the bor- 
ders of child-land. Her eyes, not having been dazzled 
by the great lights which the world throws out to 
deceive young souls, still retained their look of won- 
dering innocence, and upon her round cheek remained 
that untouched bloom which we see upon a peach or 
a cluster of grapes before careless hands have 
brushed it away. To this gentleman she was par- 
ticularly interesting. She affected his senses like an 
old song or a bit of a poem. 


King Philip. 


149 


“ Eobin Holmes is like no one else in the world,” 
Florence had once exclaimed, in her enthusiasm over 
her friend, and thus it seemed to Philip Fairfax as 
he watched and listened. To draw her out and inter- 
est her was an occupation worthy even of his sub- 
dued energies. It was, therefore, worth while for 
him to exert the full force of his fascinations, in 
order that he might call forth her rare smile and her 
quaint, original utterances. 

Florence watched them both with keen enjoyment. 
To have her friend appreciated by Cousin Phil, her 
wonderful knight in whom was vested all human 
perfections, was truly gratifying. 

“ I knew he would be charmed with her,” she 
thought, with a little nod of satisfaction. “ No per- 
son of his fine nature could help it.” 

“ O, you have not heard Eobin sing ! ” she cried, 
suddenly, as the thought struck her that her friend’s 
rarest charm had yet been held in reserve, and that 
it was now time to call attention to it. 

“No, but I could imagine that it wmuld be a treat,” 
his eyes resting admiringly upon the flushed, ani- 
mated face. 

Florence limped to the piano and opened it with 
more than her usual alacrity. To display Eobin’s 
musical acomplishments was one of her greatest 
pleasures. 

Eobin sang. A simple, sweet old song which 
Philip Fairfax had not listened to in years before. 


150 


A Golden Inheritance. 


Rendered as it was, exquisitely, by this rich, young 
voice, it struck him with a sense of newness. 

"Who had taught this simple child to sing like 
that ? He was surprised out of his self-poise for the 
moment. 

“ Miss Holmes, you ought to sing in public ! ” he 
exclaimed, rising and coming forward with an eager 
glow in his fine eyes. 

“ I really cannot see why,” said Florence, jealously. 
“ Can we have nothing good for our own enjoy- 
ment without parading it before the public ? Robin 
is our prima donna. She has all the public she wants, 
haven’t you, Robin ? ” 

“ I am fully satisfied with your appreciation alone, 
Floy,” said Robin, glancing fondly at this devoted 
admirer, “ and I certainly should not like to be forced 
to put whatever talent I may possess to a- public use, 
unless it was in some church choir. Mother used to 
say she could bear to listen to my voice in public if 
it was praising God.” 

Mr. Fairfax chewed the end of his mustache dis- 
appointedly. 

“ So she is religious, after all,” was his inward 
comment. “What a pity that such a bright and 
entertaining young creature must belong to that un- 
fortunate set of enthusiasts, which the world calls 
Christians.” 

“ Do you, then, regard God as a selfish being ? ” he 
asked, with a quizzical gleam in his eyes. 


King Philip. 


151 


“ Selfish ! ” repeated the girls, simultaneously. 

“ Why, yes. It looks like selfishness, does it not, 
that he should endow you with a gift and then re- 
quire you to use it only in praising him, only for his 
own glorification. Now your voice, Miss Kobin, is 
admirably adapted to a concert room. In fact, a 
trifle more culture would render it superb.” 

“ You may rest assured that it will never be heard 
in such a place,” said Kobin, with a flash of her eyes. 
“ I have no desire for notoriety.” 

Mr. Fairfax laughed, good humoredly, as he said, 

11 ‘ Full many a gem of purest ray serene, 

The dark, unfathomed caves of ocean bear, 

Full many a flower ’ ” 

“ There, that will do,” interrupted Florence, with a 
throb of impatience in her voice. “We are entirely 
familiar with the quotation. Kobin was never born 
to blush unseen.” 

“I agree witli you, most perfectly, little cousin. 
She must be heard to be appreciated, however, and I 
confess I would enjoy giving her a chance.” 

“ That enjoyment, sir, you will never have,” said. 
Kobin, laughing. “ My voice is a thoroughly ortho- 
dox one, and would decidedly object to lending itself 
to the public, unless it could be the means of accom- 
plishing some good.” 

“Well, my dear young lady, I can conceive of no 
greater good which any one can confer upon the 
human race than to make them happier. Now music 


152 


A Golden Inheritance. 


is one of tlie good things which God has given us 
richly to enjoy. A beautiful song rendered by a 
beautiful voice will unconsciously elevate a listening 
audience. People are exalted and purified by it. 
They are filled with aspirations after a nobler and 
better life, and, long after the singer is forgotten, 
that song will live in their hearts, checking unkind- 
ness, and subduing evil passions.” 

“And, in short, turning poor human beings into 
angels,” finished Robin, laughing heartily over the 
weakness of his argument. “Mr. Fairfax, the human 
heart, ‘deceitful above all things and desperately 
wicked,’ was never so wrought upon by the music of a 
concert hall. Possibly a holy hymn, gently and feel- 
ingly sung in the sacred twilight of a Sabbath day, 
might awaken pure and lasting emotions; but I should 
not anticipate any great results from a change of heart 
built upon so slight a foundation.” 

“Well, then, if you are only going to sing from 
principle, I would not advise you to undertake a 
position in the choir of any church. Our church 
music, as a rule, is very little behind the opera.” 

“ In fashionable sanctuaries, you mean. There may 
be, now and then, a dear little church in the country 
where the people praise God from the heart.” 

“Yes, and they do it most abominably, too. I 
spent a month, this summer, rusticating and rusting 
out in a little town in Vermont, when I was beguiled 
one morning into the church. That singing was 


King Philip. 


153 


indescribable. One member of the choir seemed to 
have struck a key a semitone too low, or the rest a 
semitone too high; any way, the effect was agonizing. 
Some sung through their noses, and others yelled 
lustily. One old deacon came out two notes behind 
the rest every time, causing a titter from the 
youngsters and a frown from the elder part of the 
congregation. The words of the hymn were simply 
a confused jargon. Such a pandemonium of sounds 
it has never before been my fate to listen to.” 

“Well, the effort was something,” said Robin. 
“ Any way, I’ll warrant you, there was more of the 
spirit of praise in their singing than is usually dis- 
played in our city churches ; for instance, the offer- 
tory at Dr. Gray’s last Sunday. It might have 
been delivered in French for all the idea of its ap- 
propriateness which any person in the audience 
received.” 

“Nevertheless, I prefer it decidedly to the ridicu- 
lous twanging of a country choir.” 

“I do not know that either is a necessary evil,” 
said Florence, in her quietest voice. “ There is, occa- 
sionally, a choir which seems to have hit the happy 
medium ; for instance, at the dear little Methodist 
Church where I go every Sunday, if I go anywhere ; 
the music is so pure and sweet and earnest, that it 
fairly carries me up to the pearly gates. Indeed, it 
is just the music which draws me there. Mamma 
calls it my depraved taste.” 


154: A Golden Inheritance. 

“And she calls it rightly, I dare say,” said her 
cousin, with a cnrl of his aristocratic lip. “ Be care- 
ful, Floy, you are in serious danger of becoming 
demoralized. Remember, there is a music for the 
head as well as for the heart.” 

“ There is not for me. That which is intended for 
the head meets no response in my being. All music, 
in my opinion, is for the heart.” 

“You should consider that a defect in your musical 
taste, and make an effort to correct it. In the matter 
of devotional singing, however, perhaps Miss Holmes 
might be able to effect a radical change. I will secure 
you a position, if you desire it. There are plenty of 
churches where such a soprano as yours would be es- 
teemed a treasure invaluable.” 

“ Thank you,” said Robin, with a slight degree of 
haughtiness in her tones. “ If you had made the 
proposition six months ago I might have considered 
it. At present I am engaged in an occupation which 
admits of very little time for the self-culture which I 
should consider necessary in order to fill such a posi- 
tion acceptably; for you must know that careful 
preparation is required for it.” 

“ Indeed ! ” said the gentleman, with a slight eleva- 
tion of his handsome eyebrows. “May I ask what 
possible business a young lady can be engaged in 
which is so confining ? ” 

“ In the business of earning my daily bread,” said 
Robin, holding her head at a very proud angle. “ I 


King Philip. 155 

am Mr. Dunbar’s book-keeper, and very proud of the 
situation.” 

“ You !” exclaimed the young man, in astonishment. 

“Certainly I see nothing unusual in the fact. I 
was obliged to earn my own living, and was fortunate 
enough to secure an excellent situation.” 

Florence was exceedingly annoyed. Why could 
not Eobin have kept silent upon that subject ? What 
possible use could there be in parading the fact of her 
necessities td the eyes of Philip Fairfax? And she 
really seemed to take a sort of pride in it, too. What 
would be the effect of this display of her independent 
spirit u]3on Cousin Phil? He had been so pleased 
with her, it was a pity to disappoint him. 

But if Cousin Phil was disappointed his disappoint- 
ment was not manifest. 

“If it was necessary for you to do any thing,” he 
said, eagerly, “ why did you not make use of this 
wonderful gift of yours ? What are talents given to 
us for, if not to put to use ; in the work of self-sup- 
port, if necessary ? ” 

“Well, Mr. Fairfax,” said Eobin, in laughing 
conceit, “ I am more blest than most people. I have 
more than one talent. In mathematics I am quite a 
genius. I am aware that arithmetic and music are 
incongruous, but I am an exception to the rule. I 
have always been remarkably quick at figures, and 
really fond of them. My present occupation suits 
me remarkably.” 


156 


A Golden Inheritance. 


“ But it must be a very arduous one. Sucli an es- 
tablishment as Mr. Dunbar’s ! I should judge that it 
would be a great responsibility for one so young. I 
do not see how you can bear it.” 

“ Every position in life is responsible, Mr. Fairfax, 
and requires the utmost perseverance and patience. 
I never expect to 

‘ be carried to the skies 
On flowery beds of ease; ’ 

and, indeed, I have no desire for any such transporta- 
tion. I prefer to ‘stem the tide.’ Nothing looks to 
me so utterly stupid as an idle, aimless life. Why 
should we live without some worthy object before 
us? ” 

Philip Fairfax did not reply ; for once his ever- 
ready tongue failed him. “ An idle, aimless life ! ” 
It was a just description of his own unsatisfactory 
existence. He was not accustomed, however, to have 
the fact presented to him in this lawless style. But 
Bobin was innocent of any design in her remark. 
She knew very little of Philip Fairfax’s history. All 
the idea which she had formed of him was that of a 
gentleman of wealth, refinement, education, polish, 
and culture. That he was wasting away his young 
energies in idleness, feeding upon the very husks of 
life, she had not surmised. Florence, however, was 
thoroughly acquainted with the fact, and quickly 
interpreted his rising flush and sudden silence. Any 
thing like a reflection upon the life and character of 


King Philip. 


157 


“King Philip” was irritating to her gentle soul. 
She was fully aware that Robin’s thrust had been 
unintended ; still she saw that Philip was annoyed 
by it, and with her ready tact she hastened to change 
the subject, hoping to make him forget the unpleas- 
antness, and return to his former serenity. 

But the gentleman did not forget. The words 
would rankle in his selfish soul. Was there, after all, 
a better way ? All his life he had been pampered 
and indulged ; every heart’s desire gratified ; every 
advantage which abundant wealth could procure, 
showered about him in golden drops. He had 
drained the cup of earthly happiness to its dregs, 
and still he was unsatisfied. The world held out no 
inducements to him. His very soul was satiated. 
Would it have been better, after all, if he had been 
obliged to climb the rugged rocks unaided, carving 
out his way with hammer and chisel as he went? 
Would he have been a stronger, better, happier man 
to-day if he had been compelled to breast manfully 
the great ocean-billows of life, instead of floating 
down the placid stream under silken sails ? These 
were, indeed, momentous questions. 

“ Robin, what do you think of Cousin Phil ? ” 
asked Florence, eagerly, that night, as she sat upon 
the floor of her dressing-room watching her friend’s 
decided movements, as she vigorously brushed her 
hair and braided it up for the night. 

Robin turned with a laugh in her eyes. 


158 


A Golden Inheritance. 


“ Do you want my candid opinion ? ” she asked, 
soberly. 

“ Yes, if you can do the subject the justice which 
its importance demands.” 

Robin’s eyes danced. 

“ I think he is handsome,” she said, gravely. 

“ O, do go on ! ” said Florence, impatiently. “ You 
know I don’t mean that ! ” 

“Well, I consider him well educated, well bred, 
conceited ; but nevertheless, strange as you may 
think it, he is a slave.” 

“ A slave ! ” echoed Florence. 

“ Yes, a slave to a very hard master : Himself 


A Victory. 


159 


XV. 

A VICTORY. 

“ As if a door of heaven should be 
Opened and then closed suddenly, 

The vision came and went, 

The light shone and was spent.” 

R OBIN appeared at her place of business the 
next morning ten minutes late. Mr. Dunbar 
smiled indulgently at the sight of her rather weary 
face. 

“ I scarcely expected you at all,” he said, in answer 
to her apology. “ Young ladies usually require at 
least twenty-four hours, I believe, to recover from 
the effects of a wedding.” 

Bobin did not reply. For some reason she felt 
nervous and irritable this morning. She had not the 
least heart for the duties of the day. The long lines 
of figures looked up at her discouragingly. Even her 
hand trembled slightly, and the usually bold, clear 
cliirography looked weak and uncertain. 

The fact was, Kobin did not at all relish the com- 
ing back from life at the Fairfax home into the 
thorns and briers of this work-a-day world. It 
required no effort to talk about strong purpose and 
earnest endeavor, but it was not easy to act them. 


160 


A Golden Inheritance. 


Neither was it hard to speak strong words in con- 
demnation of idle, aimless lives, but it required des- 
perate energy to stem the tide of which she had 
spoken so assuredly. Especially was this required 
to-day, with the smiling goddess of worldly pleasure 
holding out her glowing flowers and beckoning her 
to come and take them. And she had but to reach 
out her hand and they were hers. Then, why not do 
it ? All day long the question rang in the tired ears. 
Unusually difficult and perplexing looked the task 
before her. Why must she be shut in this close, 
dark office on this glorious October day, when she 
might be rolling along smooth country roads in an 
elegant carriage, drinking in the crimson light of 
forest and river and hill, listening to the soft, melo- 
dious voice of Philip Fairfax, and looking deep into 
the contented eyes of little Floy. Why, then, should 
she be conti ned here with these meaningless figures 
dancing before her eyes, making mistakes, as she was 
doing frequently to-day, and going back to correct 
them in a dull, lifeless way until she fairly hated the 
sight of them. 

Ah, Eobin, Eobin, you are making mistakes in other 
things besides mathematical calculations. Life is a 
complex problem, and the more you add and sub- 
tract, and multiply and divide, the more disturbed 
and troubled you will become. Better go straight 
ahead in the stony path of duty. It will lead you 
into the open plain, slowly but surely. The other 


A Victory. 


161 


way is flowery and inviting, but there are thorns 
there which will hurt you sorely. 

At five o’clock Robin paused suddenly in her 
work, and, throwing down her pen, clenched her 
hands and set her lips together decidedly. “ There’s 
no use bothering over it ally longer,” she said, “ it is 
God’s will that I should go to Floy, and I will obey it.” 

She closed the books at last with a weary sigh. 
Her day’s work was done, but it was . not well done, 
consequently the rest which was to follow would not 
be sweet. It was her own fault, she knew. Heart, 
soul, mind, and strength had not been in her work, 
consequently she had committed many blunders. 

“ I w T ish I might never have to open those old 
books again,” she was saying to herself as she drew 
on her gloves with an impatient jerk. 

As she was going out Mr. Dunbar intercepted 
her. “ Have you made any plans for next year, 
Robin ? ” he asked, quietly. 

“ Ho, sir.” Robin’s heart gave a great bound. 
Was he going to inform her that he no longer needed 
her services, and would not the door then be blown 
wide open for her to enter the Fairfax mansion ? 

“ I am glad you have not,” said Mr. Dunbar, his 
words sending dismay to Robin’s new hope. “ I 
received a letter from Haynes to-day. He informs 
me that he is improving in health, and the climate of 
the South being so beneficial, he has sought employ- 
ment and decided to remain there. In consequence 
11 


162 


A Golden Inheritance. 


1 must look for a permanent book-keeper. I have 
considered the matter and thought best to state to 
you at once that the place is now open to you as long 
as you wish to occupy it.” 

The sudden bloom faded out of Robin’s cheeks. 

“ Thank you,” she stammered. 

“ And you will accept the situation ? ” he said, 
inquiringly. 

Ah, Mr. Dunbar, if you had known what a great, 
wet blanket you threw upon the golden fires of hope 
which were kindling in this young girl’s heart just 
then. 

“ I will think about it and give you my decision 
to-morrow,” she said, at length, speaking slowly and 
with difficulty. 

Mr. Dunbar looked at her in some surprise, but 
merely bowed a quiet good-evening as he opened the 
door for her to pass out. 

Evert Russel, waiting for her, as usual, found her 
silent and constrained. Never having seen her in 
this mood before, he was puzzled and disappointed, 
knowing not how to account for it. In vain he put 
forth his greatest effort to call back the cheerful 
1 brightness to her face and voice. She was deter- 
mined to shut herself away from him to-night. In- 
deed, she had no desire that his brave, honest eyes 
should behold the temptation which stalked at her 
side in such gigantic proportions. If she opened her 
lips she felt that she would speak all that was in her 


A Victory. 


163 


heart. So she kept them tightly closed, replying to 
his cheerful tones only in monosyllables, and leaving 
him at last with her cold “ good-night ” ringing un- 
pleasantly in his ears. 

That night Robin Holmes fought a battle with her 
temptation, and I am thankful to say she came out 
conqueror. The contest, however, was a severe one. 
She was not herself aware how greatly she had de- 
sired this thing until she came to relinquish it, and, 
besides, there was so much in favor of the self-grati- 
fication. Lulu, in her far-off home, amid new scenes 
and new interests, would soon forget, at least she 
would find it easy to forgive her, she reasoned. And 
as for her mother, it could be doing her no wrong. 
The dear mother, safe in her beautiful heaven, was 
far beyond the reach of this world’s petty woes and 
annoyances, and perhaps she might even have wished 
it so. Had she not brought her up to expect wealth 
and ease, and all the sweets of life ? and if God chose 
to give them to her in a w r ay different from the ex- 
pected one, was it not surely a good way ? Perhaps 
he saw that it was a better way. As for her being 
hurt or led astray by these dazzling lights, that, she 
argued, was sheer nonsense. She certainly was strong 
enough to stand firm against all allurements. She 
could keep herself just as pure and true in an atmos- 
phere of rose color and sparkle as under gray skies 
and gloom. There was no reason, either, that she 
should be idle. Surely there was work enough to do 


164 


A Golden Inheritance. 


every- where. Perhaps this little corner was the very 
one that had been waiting for her all her life. Why 
should she not step into it and let her light shine ? 

Her home at present might be but a temporary 
one, she thought. Aunty Whipple was growing old. 
Any time the noiseless chariot might come for her, and 
then the little home must be sold. Robin could not 
live there alone. But with this thought arose a new 
question, What was to become of Aunty Whipple 
during the remaining years of her life if the doors of 
the old home were closed against her, which must, of 
necessity, be the case if Robin became Judge Fair- 
fax’s adopted daughter? Well, that was an obstacle 
easily enough disposed of. She could return to her 
old employment of nursing, and when she became 
disabled, Lulu’s doors would open wide to receive 
her. Lulu would never see the old servant suffer for 
any thing which she had power to provide. Perhaps 
it might not be so pleasant for Aunty Whipple to go 
so far away from home in her old age, and Lulu had 
not been her favorite. “ But, then, what of it ? ” 
reasoned the girl, impatiently. “I cannot sacrifice 
all my interests to the pleasure of an old servant. I 
have but one life to live, I must make the most of it.” 

But somehow, despite all her arguments, Robin 
could not persuade herself into acquiescence with her 
inclinations. There was a certain impulse of brave 
unselfishness which spoke a decided “ no ” to these ear- 
nest pleadings. 


A Victory. 


165 


It was better to fight the battle of life with a 
weary heart and head, even though defeat and danger 
lay before her ; far better than to accept a life of 
ease and enjoyment, if in so doing she must renounce 
a principle, however slight. 

Reader, do you think this young girl’s conscience 
was unnecessarily sensitive, and that she is making a 
stone wall out of the flimsiest kind of a fabric ? Not 
at all. Every person who is true to himself must be 
guided by his own sense of right. That sense, God- 
given, is not apt to lead one to uncalled-for sacrifice. 
If Robin Holmes had sacrificed principle to interest 
at that time, she might and would probably have 
gone on doing so all her life, and in the end looked 
back upon her career with disappointed eyes. It is 
true that she might have accepted the invitation of 
the Fairfaxes with all apparent propriety. The 
obstacles which forbade her acceptance would have 
appeared very slight to the eyes of many. Still, had 
she followed the bent of her inclinations, that dim 
consciousness of having betrayed an honest impulse 
of right would have taken shape and stamped itself 
upon her heart, and though it might have grown less 
and less until the years obliterated it entirely, the 
effect would have been to weaken her character. 

We can never take one step in what appears to us 
the wrong direction without losing a certain degree of 
self-respect, and to lose even the smallest amount of 
that valuable element is detrimental to every nature, 


166 


A Golden Inheritance. 


however self-satisfied. To Robin Holmes it would 
have been particularly damaging at that period of her 
life. There was a great deal of the molding and 
refining process at work with her character just then, 
and any thing which hindered its operation would 
have proved a serious drawback. 

Perhaps the guardian angels, who seem to watch 
with peculiar tenderness over orphan children, influ- 
enced Robin’s decision in this matter. However that 
may be, after having viewed it from every possible 
stand-point, unscrupulously twisting about the dark 
side and the light, so that not the smallest portion of 
it should escape her consideration ; walking back and 
forth with hasty strides as she pondered, she came at 
length to her bedside, and kneeling down with clasped 
hands, said, humbly as a little child might have said it, 

“ Dear Lord, it shall be thy way, not mine,” and 
then she folded up the golden dream and laid it away 
out of her sight forever. 

The next morning when she saw Mr. Dunbar, she 
said, quickly : 

“ I am much obliged to you for your offer, sir, and 
I have decided to accept it until you recall it.” 

And so saying, she took up the burden of life 
again with a smile. 


Trust. 


167 


XYI. 


TRUST. 


“ God hath more than angel’s care for me, 
And larger share than I, in friend or lover.” 


EVERTHELESS, when the spring came again, 



-LM Robin’s cheeks had lost a trifle of their round- 
ness and rosiness, and her eyes had gained something 
of the calm beaming of patience and experience, in 
place of their old sparkle and laughter. Remembering 
the bright, expectant child-face that looked through 
the window on that May morning before the blossom 
storm of a year ago, one might recall unconsciously 
those quaint, simple lines of J ean Ingelow’s : 

“ The child is a woman, the book may close over, 


For all its lessons are said.” 


Not all its lessons were said, however, and so 
Robin was finding out more fully every day as the 
pages grew more difficult and dense. 

“ Why, there are some things I cannot begin to 
understand ! ” she said many times during the win- 
ter, opening her brown eyes wide. She had not yet 
learned to take the hard pages to God. He would 
have helped her wonderfully, but she did not know 
it, and so she stumbled on, through the rains and 
snows of that winter, unaided and alone. 


168 


A Golden Inheritance. 


Auntie Wliipple, watching her treasure with sharp, 
anxious eyes, beheld the growing change with no pleas- 
ure. What right had the laughter and song to die 
away from the child’s lips so soon ? Robin was only 
a child, after all, to this faithful heart. To herself 
she was growing old. Nothing was as it used to be. 
The distance since last spring looked interminable, 
as she cast her eyes backward. 

“ Life is real ; life is earnest,” quoted Evert Russel 
to himself many times that winter, as he watched her 
from afar. He saw but little of her of late, being 
deeply engrossed in his studies, trying to crowd a 
year’s work into six months. He was becoming very 
eager to be about his Father’s business, and forget- 
ting that discretion must ever be the better part of 
valor, he rushed ahead breathlessly, taking long 
strides upward, but, at the same time, losing flesh and 
color to an alarming extent. 

One warm spring morning, catching a glimpse of 
his face in the glass, he gave an unconscious 
start. 

“ I am overdoing the matter,” he soliloquized, 
pausing for full five minutes over an unfinished 
translation. “ I believe I must rest a day.” 

About the same time Philip Fairfax, lounging at 
Floy’s side on the little south-side piazza, under the 
morning-glory vines, took the cigar from his hand- 
some lips to remark, lazily, that it would be a fine 
day for a picnic. 


Trust. 


169 


Florence looked up from lier book with brighten- 
ing eyes at tlie suggestion. 

<k So it would. Why did you not think of it 
before? We might have taken Eobin. The poor 
child needs a rest.” 

“ Fobin ? Ah, yes,” a gleam of interest lighting 
up his face. “ Now I think of it, I have not seen 
her since we left for the South.” 

“ She is thin and jaded,” said Florence. “ The 
foolish girl will keep at her employment until she 
drops down. A little run out into the country would 
do her a world of good. We could have driven over 
and spent the day at Silver Falls.” 

u Well, it is not too late, yet.” 

“ Not if we could persuade her ; but that will be 
the trouble.” 

“ Suppose you write to Mr. Dunbar asking him to 
excuse her. He is not a severe task-master I judge.” 

“ Severe ! the idea ! Mr. Dunbar’s heart is as big 
as the world. Thank you, Phil, for the suggestion. 
I’ll send the note right away.” 

Accordingly a slip of paper containing the follow- 
ing was handed to Mr. Dunbar as he was entering 
his store at nine o’clock : 

“ Dear Mr. Dunbar : Will you let me have Eobin 
to-day that I may take her to Silver Falls, and rub 
some of the apple blossoms into her pale cheeks ? 

“ Yours respectfully, Florence Fairfax.” 


170 


A Golden Inheritance. 


This epistle the gentleman read with a smile, 
and, taking his big gold pen, wrote across it in legible 
characters : “ With all my heart.” Then he tossed it 
in at Robin’s window. 

Robin raised her eyes to run them over the rose- 
tinted paper, amcomprehendingly at first, but flushing 
with delight as she gathered the full import of the 
idea that she was to spend the day in the country. 

“ Why, Mr. Dunbar, God must have been thinking 
of me ! ” she exclaimed, involuntarily. 

Mr. Dunbar looked at his young book-keeper in 
some degree of self-reproach. 

“Have you been so sadly in need of rest then, 
child ? Why did you not say so ? ” 

“I don’t know that I have been in any need at 
all ; but it is something for which I have been in- 
tensely longing, almost praying, ever since these 
beautiful May days began.” 

“With your acceptance, then, you may add my 
hearty thanks to Miss Florence for her thoughtful- 
ness.” 

Robin took up her pen, smiling her gratitude, but 
before she had finished the first line of her note the 
Fairfax carriage appeared at the door. 

“ I knew it wasn’t worth while to wait for a reply,” 
said Florence ; “ it would be impossible for Mr. Dun- 
bar to deny himself the pleasure of making some- 
body happy.” 

“ So it would, and no one can appreciate his gen- 


Trust. 171 

erosity better than Florence Fairfax,” laughed Kobin, 
sinking down into the carriage-seat blissfully. 

“ And now, 

‘ Away, away, to the woods away ! ’ ” 
said Florence, with that contented shine in her blue 
eyes which they always wore when they were resting 
upon Kobin. “I have sent John ahead with a cart- 
load of provisions, sandwiches and cake, ice-cream 
and oranges.” 

“Isn’t it rather a small picnic party, Flo?” 
drawled her cousin. “We should have an even 
number, at least. Haven’t you some other young 
friend whom we can make happy ? ” 

“ I don’t know. There is Evert on the piazza, as 
usual, up to his eyes in Greek. Suppose we bind 
him and compel him to come with us.” 

“ Nothing would make him more unhappy,” said 
Kobin. 

But on this occasion she was mistaken. The 
young student needed no compulsion. He accepted 
the invitation almost as joyfully as Kobin had done. 

“I wonder how you happened to ask me to-day 
when I was panting for a sight of green pastures,” 
he said, as the carriage started off again. 

“ It must have been a suggestion of Providence,” 
observed Kobin, carelessly. 

Evert’s face flushed. He was particularly sensitive 
to any thing which sounded like disrespect of sacred 
things, especially when it came from Kobin’s lips. 


172 A Golden Inheritance. 

“ Every good thing is,” he said, gravely. 

“ Do you think God interests himself in matters of 
such minor importance?” asked Philip Fairfax. 

“Your mother interested herself in matters of 
much smaller, importance which concerned your 
childish happiness, did she not ? Her heart could not 
have been more capable than the great heart of God.” 

“ Hers was a simple human heart filled with this 
world. His is great beyond our conception. What 
right have we to suppose that he stoops to our little 
wants ? ” 

“ The right which his own words give us. It is 
the greatest heart which is the most loving, and love 
stoops to the smallest things which will gratify the 
object of its love.” 

Bobin, leaning back with closed eyes, felt an ineffa- 
ble peace stealing over her. It was good simply to 
rest on the thought of that love to-day. Somehow 
she was finding earthly support less and less relia- 
ble, and her fingers were beginning to clutch hard 
upon the strong Hand which was reaching down to 
her from above. 

The two young men, taking note of her restful 
face this morning, each read it from his own stand- 
point. 

“ The little girl is finding her life-struggle too 
hard,” mused Philip Fairfax, with a quiet smile of 
satisfaction, as he recalled her boastful speech of six 
months ago. But Evert Eussel felt a glow of thank- 


Trust. 


173 


fulness as he rightly interpreted the fact that the 
perplexed young soul was losing its doubts and will- 
fulness in the perfect will of God. 

“ Open your eyes and behold fairy-land, Robin,” 
said Florence, suddenly. 

Robin awoke with a start. The country at last, 
glorious in its flush of spring beauty ! Robin clasped 
her hands in mute delight. On they went past miles 
and miles of beautiful blossom and greenness and ex- 
quisite bird song. 

“ You look as if your soul were taking wings, Miss 
Robin,” said Philip Fairfax, leaning forward to look 
into the radiant eyes. 

“ I wish it might,” laughed Robin, the bloom 
deepening in her cheeks. “ Hasn’t somebody written 
somewhere of the ‘ passionate longing for wings ? ’ 
That is just the way I always feel when I am regard- 
ing any thing beautiful in nature; as if I cannot 
gather enough of it with my eyes. I want to fly 
into the very midst of it.” 

“ Here we are 1 ” cried Florence, as the carriage 
turned off from the main road into a long, shaded 
avenue. “ Silver Falls, indeed ! Look, all of you, 
and prepare to be exalted out of yourselves.” 

“ Take care, or Robin will find her wings cropping 
out,” said Philip, in a serio-comic tone. “ You would 
not care to behold her flying into the depth of that 
water-fall, would you, Floy ? ” 

“ I don’t know. I feel as if I would like to fly into 


\ 


174 A Golden Inheritance. 

it myself. See how the spray sparkles in the sun- 
light ! ” 

“ One would suppose you had never seen Niagara.” 

“ I never have,” said Robin, quickly. “ I have 
never seen any thing outside of Burlington.” 

“Well don’t boast of it,” said Floy, with a shade 
of irritation in her voice. “It is your own fault 
that you have not.” 

“Isn’t it about dinner time?” asked Evert, anx- 
ious to ward off a subject which would be sure to 
tend to an unpleasantness. 

“ ‘ Lives there a man with soul so dead ’ that he 
can be hungry in view of such a scene as this ? ” de- 
manded Robin, with an oratorical sweep of her' hand 
toward the water-fall, as she fastened her eyes in 
feigned severity upon the young student. 

“I must confess that it is even so. The very 
beauty of our surroundings is appetizing.” 

“ I believe it is,” said Florence. “ At any rate, 
we will refresh these mortal bodies at once, that we 
may be better prepared to enjoy the feast of 
reason and flow of soul hereafter. Here is a delight- 
ful spot to spread our table, by the side of this bab- 
bling spring.” 

After dinner Robin’s eyes were caught by some 
great rocks above the falls. 

“How many of you are prepared to scale yonder 
dangerous wall with me ? ” she exclaimed, and then 
stopped short, looking hard at Florence as the sud- 


Trust. 


175 


den remembrance of her thoughtlessness flashed upon 
her. 

A vivid crimson rose in Floy’s sensitive cheeks, as 
she interpreted the half-friglitened, half-apologetic 
glance. 

“ I for one am ready,” she said, rising and drawing 
up her crutch with an air of proud endurance. 

“No, no, we would better not,” said Robin, con- 
fusedly. “I did not think what I was saying. I 
really don’t care to go.” 

“ But I do,” said Florence, doggedly, springing 
ahead as fast as her maimed feet could carry her. 

“ Ilow inexcusably stupid I am ! ” said Robin, in a 
low voice, to Philip. “ What shall we do ? She can 
never climb those rocks.” 

“I think she can; determination w T ill do most every 
thing, and she has plenty of that.” 

“But suppose she should fall ! I will never forgive 
myself if she meets with the slightest mishap.” 

« Never fear,” he said, drawing Robin’s hand 
through his arm. “See how nimbly she springs from 
rock to rock ; and Russel is strong as a lion and as 
watchful. Rest assured he will let no harm come to 
her. I warrant you they will have reached the top 
long before we can overtake them.” 

And so it was. Robin felt her own strong young 
feet slipping often over the perilous path ; but the 
little lame girl went ahead fearlessly, as if shod with 
iron. Keeping just out of the reach of her strong 


176 


A Golden Inheritance. 


protector, and disdaining his proffered aid, she reached 
the top at last, and smiled back triumphantly at the 
ascending party as they came up panting and breath- 
less. 

“ Bravo, Floy ! ” said her cousin, dropping down 
at her side, tired out with the effort. “ If you are 
going through life at that rate, you’ll outstrip us all 
in the long run.” 

“I always said she would,” said Robin. 

Florence smiled, patiently. These pleasantries were 
beginning to fall very heavily upon her tired ears of 
late. She was not growing resigned or submissive. 
Each new spring-tide as it came, flashing its loveliness 
upon her, seemed to render her more restless and im- 
patient under the yoke of her bondage. 

“ The shadows grow deeper every day of my life,” 
she murmured, rebelliously, as, throwing herself back 
upon the rough couch of stone, she let her eyes rove 
from hill-top to liill-top, over cky and river and 
mountain and glen and forest, but finding no light 
anywhere upon her shadowed life. God was good, 
but the faint, blue eyes of the stricken child could 
not see it as yet. In fact, of all those four young 
people, who were lounging so peacefully upon those 
rocks on this May day, only one was free from the 
burden of unrest and disquietude. Only the young 
student, whose life was hid with God, and whose 
strength was as the strength of ten, because his heart 
wa3 pure, could look into the blue depths of this 


Trust. 177 

beautiful sky and say, with satisfied lips, “ Father, I 
thank thee that thou art leading me.” 

Gradually an utter silence fell upon the little group. 
Philip, the indolent, lying full length upon the grass 
with his hat drawn over his eyes, had forgotten life 
and its troubles in a quiet doze. 

Evert had drawn out pencil and paper, and was 
making a rough draft of a cottage and a bit of forest 
below them. As for Robin, she was listening to the 
wonderful stillness, broken only now and then by the 
chirp of an insect or a gush of bird song, smiling 
unconsciously as she regarded the different expres- 
sions upon the three faces around her, and coming 
back to puzzle again over the sad events of last spring, 
and to marvel that these strange things had happened 
to her. In the midst of her ponderings, however, she 
became suddenly aware that a cloud had overshad- 
owed the sun. Lifting her eyes, she perceived that 
the western sky, which only a few moments before 
had been a mass of snowy, summer clouds, had now* 
become black and threatening. 

“ Why, it is going to shower ! ” she exclaimed, 
springing up and looking around her at the rapidly- 
increasing blackness. 

The whole party were on their feet in an instant, 
looking into each other’s eyes in some dismay 
as a low rumble of thunder smote upon their 
ears. It was followed by an instantaneous flash of 

lightning. 

12 


178 


A Golden Inheritance. 


“ How stupid in us not to have seen it coming be- 
fore ! ” said Evert, with an involuntary glance at 
Florence, whose face had grown white and frightened. 

“ It came up so quickly,” said Robin. “ Isn’t that 
the way the most terrific storms always do ? ” 

“ Yes, it is going to be something fearful,” observed 
Philip, with an attempt at jest ; “ a cyclone, most 
probably. Small chance for us, up here at this 
height.” 

All paused suddenly as a strong gust of wind swept 
down over -them like a small tornado. 

“We must get down at any rate,” said Evert. “ I 
will take Floy if you will see to Robin, Fairfax. We 
have not a moment to lose.” 

He lifted Florence in his arms as he spoke, but 
she resisted him stoutly. 

“You cannot do it, Evert Russel. It will be but 
running the risk of both our lives. Leave me here 
and go on, all of you. I will get down in some way, 
$and if not — ■” 

“ Hon sense ! Trust me, child. I have carried far 
heavier burdens than you up and down steeper places 
than this. f Shut your eyes, and, before you know 
\ it, you will be safe under the shelter of the oak-tree 
down there.” 

“Look after Floy!” shouted Philip Fairfax. “Keep 
your eyes on the sky.” 

“ Keep your eyes on the sky,” repeated Florence, 
unconsciously. 


Trust. 


179 


Was that just what God would have her do ? Was 
it for this purpose that he had crippled her swift, 
young feet, and cast the cloud over all her sunny life? 
Was it that she might the sooner learn to keep her 
eyes upon the sky ? 

Robin and Philip, following close with anxious 
footsteps, wondered at the quiet strength of the gentle 
face before them. Robin shut her eyes often, and 
shuddered as young Russel swung himself and his 
burden, almost miraculously, down on the slippery 
rocks. If he should miss his footing for the space of 
one little inch, they must go down together, over the 
precipice, into the silver w T aters which still foamed 
and sparkled with brilliancy, spite of the gathering 
tempest. 

“ O God,” groaned Robin, “ hold them in the hol- 
low of thine hand ! ” 

“ What a nervous, excitable child you are ! ” smiled 
Philip, in his light, careless manner. “ So frightened 
over a trifle ! Look, your young athlete has leaped « 
the last barrier. They are under the oaks. ‘ Russel, 

I congratulate you ! ’ ” he shouted, and in a few mo- 
ments more they were all together, laughing and 
breathless beneath the friendly branches. 

“ Is there no better shelter than this, Evert ? ” asked 
Robin, anxiously, as the big drops began to patter 
about them. “ Would it be possible for us to reach 
the sheds where we left the horses ? ” 

“Rot without getting very wet. We are as well 


180 A Golden Inheritance. 

protected here as it is possible for us to be under the 
circumstances.” 

He paused, suddenly, as a terrific peal of thunder 
shook the ground beneath them. Even Philip Fair- 
fax’s calm face blanched. 

“ Suppose the lightning should strike the tree ! ” he 
exclaimed, involuntarily. 

“ Or this mighty, rushing wind uproot it ! ” cried 
Eobin, her voice quivering. 

“ God will take care of us,” said Florence, calmly, 
the simple, childish words sounding musically through^ 
the noise of the tempest. God’s young servant had 
been framing eloquent words of reassurance and trust, 
but they died away unspoken before the power of 
this simple utterance. In times of great crisis we 
become as little children. When we can do nothing 
but trust, we sustain ourselves as little ones do. 
Afraid of the dark, they reach out to clasp their 
mother’s hands and are safe. Christ, walking upon 
the troubled sea, said simply to his fear-stricken disci- 
ples, “ It is I ; be not afraid ; ” and the tempest of 
their fear ceased. And so this simple sentence, 
“ God will take care of you,” quieted these frightened 
hearts and soothed them. Nothing more was spoken 
until the fury of the storm was spent. 

“It is clearing up,” said Philip Fairfax, with a 
great sigh of relief, as a beam of gold shot athwart 
the western sky. “ What are you looking so thank- 
ful for, Floy ? ” 


Trust. 


181 


“ He has redeemed our lives from destruction,” said 
the lame girl, in sweet, solemn tones. 

The man of the world smiled, superciliously. 
“ What a child you are, Flo. Afraid of a thunder- 
shower ! ” 

“ Were you not afraid, Cousin Phil ? ” 

“ Perhaps, for a moment ; but you see now how 
foolish it was. We are constantly making mountains 
out of mole-hills. It is a pity that we are not made 
of stouter material. Brave hearts are sadly wanting 
in this world of ours.” 

Robin turned a spirited face upon him. 

“ Mr. Fairfax, the bravest heart among us to-day 
was that one which had most cause to be timid. The 
bravest hearts are those which trust most.” 

The sun came out brilliantly. Rain-drops flashed 
from every tree and shrub. A chorus of birds set up 
a joyful twittering, and a gorgeous rainbow hung 
over the Silver Falls. With a backward glance at the 
picture as they drove away, Evert Russel took out 
his memorandum-book, and wrote therein, “The 
bravest hearts are those which trust most.” 


182 


A Golden Inheritance. 


XVII. 

FLOY’S BIRTHDAY. 

« 0 fear not, in a world like this, 

And thou shalt know ere long, 

Know how sublime a thing it is 
To suffer and be strong.” 

U 'FlLOKEXCE, I wish yon would put aside those 
J j everlasting hooks and give me your attention 
for a few moments.” 

Mrs. Fairfax spoke impatiently. She usually spoke 
thus when she addressed this young daughter of 
hers. The fact was, Florence had sadly disappointed 
her fashionable mother in her growing up. From 
the hour when the fair-faced baby lay in her lace- 
curtained crib, Mrs. Fairfax had cherished ambitious 
dreams. She had built her castles and peopled them, 
painting every thing with rainbow hues, living on 
the dream, as women of her type are apt to do, until 
it had become almost a reality. The reality, when it 
came, however, was altogether what the dream had 
not been. Instead of the dazzling young society 
queen which her imagination had so fondly pictured, 
she beheld her daughter approaching her eighteenth 
birthday, maimed and crippled for life, shrinking from 
society and the gaze of fashionable eyes, as a shy, mild 


Floy’s Birthday. 


183 


violet, crouching beneath forest trees, seeks to hide its 
tender beauty from the hot blaze of the sun. Halting, 
disgusted, upon the very edge of this arcadian exist- 
ence, which stretched its charming lengths before 
her, she turned aside to seek her world in books and 
dreams. 

“ Lame feet can never tread those dizzy, brilliant 
paths,” she said, bitterly, with one longing look into 
the life which might have been hers ; and then she 
closed the shining doors, sobbing out her grief alone, 
as disappointed children do when they find them- 
selves shut out from coveted pleasures. 

“Well, mamma, what is it?” she said, this morn- 
ing raising her eyes unwillingly from the book and 
letting them fall again, that she might more fully 
grasp the last paragraph. 

“ Put your book entirely away if you please,” said 
Mrs. Fairfax. “ I want your undivided attention.” 

Florence closed the volume, patiently, and tossed it 
upon the table. It was the coldest of December 
days, clear, sparkling, brilliant. Outside, the world 
was snow white, aglitter with icicles. The diamonds 
on Mrs. Fairfax’s finger sparkled, correspondingly. 
Her black eyes had an unusual luster this morning, 
and there was a fine glow in her dark cheeks. She 
was a very handsome woman. 

“ Lovely, ” people called her ; “ cold,” the daughter’s 
heart said, “ like the glitter of the winter morning.” 

“ I suppose you are aware, Florence, that the first 


184 


A Golden Inheritance. 


of January will be the eighteenth anniversary of 
your birthday,” said the lady, calmly, smoothing 
out the folds of her red silk morning robe. 

“ I suppose so,” answered Florence, listlessly. 

“You suppose so ! It is a matter of no consequence 
to you, I presume. I do wish you would try and 
take some interest in life, Florence.” 

“ What is there for me to be interested in ? hi ot 
a birthday, certainly, unless I am to congratulate my- 
self that I have one less year to live. It surely can 
give me no pleasure to reflect that I am growing 
old.” 

“ Old ! one would think you were eighty, instead 
of eighteen. Now, Florence, do for once, I beseech 
you, lay aside your bemoanings and be sensible. The 
fact that you are lame does not annul the fact that 
you are Judge Fairfax’s daughter, and as such society 
must acknowledge you. I always intended that your 
coming-out party should take place on your eighteenth 
birthday, and since you are as well fitted to make 
your debut now as you ever will be, I see no occasion 
for delaying an event which must be lived through 
soon or later.” 

“O, mamma!” cried Florence, the blood rush- 
ing in a crimson tide over face and neck and fore- 
head. “You cannot mean it. You could not be so 
cruel ! ” 

“ As what V 

“ As to parade your own child, a helpless cripple, 


Floy’s Birthday. 


185 


before tlie gaze of a multitude of your fashionable 
friends, to be pitied and criticised and ridiculed, 
perhaps wounded beyond power of description, tor- 
tured I” 

“My dear, you are making yourself absolutely 
ridiculous. Do you imagine that my friends are a 
set of gorillas, who will stare at you as if they had 
never seen any one walk with a crutch before? 
Do give up your foolish notions. You are neither 
deformed nor hideous. Your face is, or was before it 
assumed that woe-begone expression, what most peo- 
ple call beautiful, (though I always regretted that you 
were not dark, like me.) With a becoming dress I 
imagine that you might make a very creditable 
appearance. At any rate, I have decided to enter 
you into society upon your eighteenth birthday. So 
you may as well accustom yourself to the idea at 
once. The next question to be considered is your 
dress. Have you any choice in the matter V 9 

“ It is not of the slightest consequence, mamma, 
for I certainly have no intention of making a gazing- 
stock of myself for your guests. If you are deter- 
mined to give the entertainment in my honor, I 
suppose my duty to you will require me to be 
present, but I shall occupy a quiet corner and wear 
the plainest of costumes. A dark silk or cashmere 
will be all that is necessary.” 

“ Ytjfff will neither sit in a corner nor make a nun of 
yourself. Since you manifest so little interest in your 


186 A Golden Inheritance. 

dress, I will attend to it myself. White is the proper 
thing. A white silk', I think, trimmed with point 
lace. Have you any choice as to the guests ?” 

Florence shook her head. “ Invite whomsoever you 
please. My friends in Burlington are not such as 
you would be pleased to entertain in your parlors, only 
I want, I must have, Bobin.” 

“ Bobin ? Of course she is always lady-like and can 
be of no disadvantage to us. You need not be par- 
ticular about informing any one as to her position in 
life. Let her know it is to be a dress affair. She has 
remarkable taste in such matters. And now, Flor- 
ence, I am going to order the carriage immediately, 
to drive down town and see about the materials for 
your dress. I suppose nothing would induce you to 
go along.” 

Floy smiled, serenely. 

“ Utterly nothing,” she said ; “ it would require more 
courage for me to hobble down the length of one of 
those large stores, followed by the impertinent stare 
of ill-mannered clerks than to face a cannon’s mouth.” 

Mrs. Fairfax made no reply, as she swept out of 
the room. 

The next two weeks were most unhappy ones to 
Florence. The grim phantom of that coming-out 
party haunted her by night and by day. In vain 
she tried to banish it from her mind. It would 
intrude itself between her and every possible enjoy- 
ment. To one of her shrinking, sensitive nature, the 


Floy’s Birthday. 


187 


ordeal must have been a severe one, even under the 
most propitious circumstances ; hut when she reflected 
that her misfortune must render her an object of 
pity, while she was occupying the central place of 
observation during the festivities of the evening, it 
became an intolerable thought. 

“I suppose I shall live through it,” she said to 
herself on the morning of the first of January, as she 
drew aside the curtain and looked up moodily into 
the somber sky. 

“Ah ! princess, a happy New Year to you ! Allow 
me to congratulate you,” drawled the soft voice of 
her Cousin Philip, as he looked up from the depths 
of his easy-chair, and his morning paper. 

“ Don’t congratulate me,” said Florence, sharply. 
“I am sick of the meaningless words. O, Phil, if 
you could save me from the tortures of this night ! ” 

She broke off suddenly. What was the use ? He 
could not understand. What was this night more 
than any other night to Philip Fairfax, except per- 
haps a little dash of sunlight across the golden waters 
of his pleasant life ? 

“My dear child, what are you talking about? 
Tortures ! Why, you ought to be wild with joy over 
your first party. Most young ladies are, I have 
heard. By the way, I think the breakfast-bell rang 
some moments ago. May I have the honor of escort- 
ing in the fair debutante f ” 

Judge Fairfax greeted his daughter with unusual 


188 


A Golden Inheritance. 


warmth. He did not congratulate her, but kissed 
her tenderly, as he said, placing an elegant jewel 
casket in her hands, 

“ For my pearl of eighteen years.” 

Florence gave a little cry of delight as she turned 
the tiny key and disclosed a pure, soft gleam of 
pearls resting upon a bed of pale blue satin. 

There were other gifts at her plate. From her 
mother, an exquisite little Geneva watch, and a dia- 
mond ring from Cousin Phil. But neither of these 
so perfectly accorded with the girl’s quiet taste as 
did those soft, pure pearls. 

“ I ought to be thankful to you all,” she said, a 
sudden wave of self-reproach rising up and choking 
her. “ They are doing all they can to make me hap- 
py,” she thought; “how wretchedly ungrateful I 
am.” 

“ I want you to try on your dress, Floy,” said her 
mother, after breakfast. 

Florence made no objection. Hugging her beauti- 
ful gifts to her heart, she was almost happy. What 
did it matter, on this glad He w-y ear’s morning, that 
she must carry her crutch ? Why could she not for- 
get it and be happy ? Why must she perpetually re- 
member her misfortune \ 

As she stood, quiet and passive, in the rich even- 
ing dress, while her mother and the seamstress turned 
her this way and that, and admired and criticised 
and commented, she glanced at her reflection in the 


Floy’s Birthday. 189 

mirror with neither smile nor frown. What differ- 
ence need it make, if her mother was satisfied ? 

“ The dress is perfect,” pronounced Mrs. Fairfax, 
at length. “ You need only your pearls. Where are 
they, Floy ? ” 

“ 1 left them on my dressing-table.” 

As Mrs. Fairfax was stepping into her daughter’s 
room for the pearls, she was met in the hall by one 
of the kitchen maids. 

“If you please, Mrs. Fairfax, Mrs. Dr. Hunt is in 
the parlor.” 

“ Mrs. Hunt ! What in the world can the woman 
want at this hour ; and New-year’s morning, too ! ” 

“ She asked for Miss Floy.” 

Mrs. Fairfax paused irresolutely. What could 
Mrs. Hunt possibly want of Florence ? True, they 
were great friends. It was one of Florence’s idiosyn- 
crasies to seek the companionship of quiet people 
who wore plain dresses and stayed at home and 
cooked their own dinners. The child had such sin- 
gular tastes. But this little Mrs. Hunt was not in 
the habit of calling at the Fairfax mansion. Some- 
thing unusual must have sent her. What could it 
be? She could not have Florence turned off the 
track by any new freak this morning when every 
thing was working so smoothly. 

“I will see the lady myself, Nora,” she said. 
“ You may take this casket to Miss Floy, but say 
nothing to her about the caller, remember ! ” 


190 


A Golden Inherit ance. 


Little Mrs. Hunt looked up in some trepidation as 
Mrs. Fairfax entered. In truth she had no desire to 
meet the lady, particularly at this time. But she 
was a brave, determined little woman, and not to be 
swerved from her purpose by even so great an ob- 
stacle as that of the stately Mrs. Fairfax. 

“ I called to see your daughter upon a matter of 
great importance,” she said, unhesitatingly, after the 
usual greetings had been exchanged. 

“Indeed! I am sorry to be obliged to say that 
Floy is so much engaged this morning that I must 
ask you to excuse her. Is the matter one which I 
can attend to ? ” 

“ It is one which will require but an hour of Miss 
Florence’s time, and which no one else can attend to.” 

“Indeed! Would it be presumptuous in me to 
inquire if it is a case of life or death, Mrs. Hunt ? ” 
asked Mrs. Fairfax, smiling complacently. 

“ It is just that,” said Mrs. Hunt, bluntly. “ Little 
Eddie Gavotte is dying at the hospital, and begs so 
piteously for 4 Miss Floy,’ that when my husband told 
me of it this morning, I felt irresistibly impelled to 
make an effort to grant the child’s dying request.” 

“ Who is Eddie Gavotte, may I ask \ ” 

44 He is the boy whom your daughter employed to 
weed her flower-beds last summer. 4 She used to 
sing pretty hymns and play sweet music when I was 
busy under her window,’ he said this morning, 4 and 
sometimes she would read lovely stories to me, and I 


Floy’s Birthday. 


191 


want her to come now and tell me about heaven. 
She must know.’ Dr. Hunt says there is no quieting 
him. It is his constant cry, night and day.” 

“ I am very sorry that such a thing should occur at 
this time,” said Mrs. Fairfax, coolly. “ Probably the 
boy is delirious, and does not know what he says. 
At any rate, I cannot have Florence exposed to dis- 
ease on this morning of all mornings.” 

“ There is no contagious disease. The boy has 
always been sickly, and is sinking away with con- 
sumption. Surely, Mrs. Fairfax, you would not re- 
fuse this little favor to a dying child ? ” 

“ I am very sorry indeed to be under the necessity 
of doing so, but I really cannot see the importance as 
3 on represent it. If the child is in need of spiritual 
advice a clergyman would be the proper person.” 

Beading in the lady’s eyes that further appeal 
would be useless, Mrs. Hunt arose to go. 

“ Good-morning, Mrs. Fairfax,” she said, in her 
quietest tones. But something in their very quiet- 
ness went to the lady’s heart with keener reproach 
than the strongest words could have conveyed. She 
stood a moment, looking after the retreating figure, 
ill at ease. It was only a trifling favor, after all, 
which this earnest little woman had asked of her. 
Perhaps she ought to have granted her request. 
Wasn’t there something in the Bible about a mill- 
stone being hanged about the neck of any one who 
should offend one of these little ones ? 


192 


A Golden Inheritance. 


“ Pshaw ! ” ejaculated the lady at length, turning 
hastily away from the window with a sudden flush in 
her dark cheeks. “ Am I a fool, after all, to he so 
wrought upon by the sentimental notions of a fanatic 
like Mrs. Hunt? My daughter to run the risk of 
ruining her complexion for the evening by going out 
in such an air as this to gratify the delirious mutter - 
ings of a sick pauper child ! ” and then Mrs. Fairfax 
went up stairs to put the finishing touches to Flor- 
ence’s costume, and regret, again and again, that the 
graceful effect must all be spoiled by that dreadful 
crutch. 

Thus the day wore away and night set in, bitterly 
cold and stormy. 

u It’s snowing like fun,” said Pobin, running into 
Floy’s dressing-room at twilight. 

The frightened “ little princess ” stood before her 
mirror, half laughing, half crying at the bewildering 
reflection of silk and lace and pearls which met her 
gaze. She turned, delighted at the sight of her 
friend. 

“ O, Pobin, you’ve come at last, did you ever see 
such a guy as they have contrived to make of me ? ” 

Pobin turned her around and gazed at her full two 
minutes without speaking. 

“ Beautiful as an artist’s dream !” she burst out, 
rhapsodically, and then they both laughed loud and 
long. 

But it was true, nevertheless. The little lame girl, 


Floy’s Birthday. 


193 


in her snow-wnite robe, with that nervous flush in 
her cheeks, and the fireside brightness in her eyes, 
presented a picture of loveliness such as no artist, 
however skillful, ever succeeded in transferring to 
canvass. 

“ I suppose you have no idea how I dread this per- 
formance,” said Florence, clutching her friend’s hands 
excitedly. 

No, Robin had not. She was troubled with none 
of that natural timidity and diffidence which charac- 
terized this fair young daughter of the house of Fair- 
fax. To her ‘the anticipation of the evening was one 
dream of delight. 

“ It would not be so bad,” went on Florence, plaint- 
ively, “if I could go down and receive the people as 
they came into the drawing-rooms. But mamma in- 
sists upon my remaining in my room until all the 
company is assembled. Her desire seems to be to 
make the greatest possible display of her poor, maimed 
fledgling.” 

“ Floy, you are morbidly sensitive about your 
lameness. You may rest assured your mother is 
proud of you, or she would not be thus anxious to 
render you conspicuous, and I must say, in all truth, 
she has good reason to be proud of you.” 

“ O, Robin, it isn’t that, it is self pride. In her 
heart she revolts against this public display as much 
as I do myself. But she is well aware that all her 
world is whispering that Mrs. Fairfax is sadly humil- 

13 


194 


A Golden Inheritance. 


iated in the misfortune which has overtaken her only 
daughter, and she can bear any thing better than pity. 
Do yon not understand, Robin \ She is willing to go 
through all the tortures of this evening, if thereby 
she may disabuse people’s minds of the impression 
that she is pricked in soul on account of me.” 

It was just as the guests were beginning to arrive 
that a servant entered Florence’s room with a letter. 

“ A strange-looking boy brought it, and said would 
I please hand it to the young lady immediately.” 

Florence tore open the envelope with nervous 
haste. It contained but two lines, written in bold, 
business characters : 

“ Little Eddie Gavotte is dying. Will Miss Fair- 
fax come to him for a moment, if possible. City hos- 
pital, fifth ward. Respectfully, 

“Mark Gregory.” 

Florence read the words once, twice, thrice, com- 
prehending at length that from the midst of life she 
was summoned into the grim presence of death. 

“ Go and tell the coachman to get the carriage for 
me at once,” she said to the servant, who still lingered. 

“ Miss Floy ! ” gasped the astonished girl, “ you 
surely don’t mean it. You are not going out to- 
night ? ” 

“ Don’t stop to talk now. Do as I bid you, there 
is no time to lose,” said Florence, so imperiously that 
the girl departed at once on her strange errand. 


Floy’s Bietiiday. 


195 


Robin still stood as she bad done from the first, lier 
hands raised in the act of fastening a cluster of car- 
nation pinks at her throat, and her eyes dilated with 
astonishment. Had her friend suddenly taken leave 
of her senses ? 

“ Florence ! ” she managed to ejaculate at length. 

“ Read that,” said Florence, thrusting the note in 
her hand. “ He is dying, poor little Ned ! ” 

Robin ran her bewildered eyes over the lines. 
“ Of course you ought to go,” she said, thoughtfully, 
twisting the paper in her fingers ; “ but how unfort- 
unate that it should happen just at this moment. 
"What will your mother say ? ” 

“ I don’t know,” said Florence ; “ fortunately, 
there is no time to consult her.” 

“ The carriage is at the door, miss,” said the serv- 
ant, thrusting a frightened face in the door. 

“ Floy, you surely are not going in that dress ? ” 

“ Certainly ; do you not understand that there is no 
time ! Bring my dark mantle, Nora. Robin, you 
must go with me. Put on your ulster, it will cover 
your dress.” Robin obeyed unhesitatingly. 

“What will I say to your mother, Miss Floy?” 
asked Nora, as she followed them down stairs. 

“ When she discovers my absence and inquires for 
me, tell her I have gone to the death-bed of little 
Ned Gavotte,” said Florence, stepping out into the 
thick darkness and blinding storm. 


196 


A Golden Inheritance, 


XVIII. 

“THE SWELLING OF JORDAN.” 

“ Leaves have their time to fall, 

And flowers to wither at the North-wind’s breath, 

And stars to set ; — but all, 

Thou hast all seasons for thine own, 0 Death ! ” 

“TTTILL she come, do you think Miss Floy will 

T T come % ” asked a faint young voice. 

Little Xed lay upon his pillow very white and very 
still. The fever-fire which had raged so fiercely for 
long days and nights was burned out now. The wist- 
ful eyes were growing dim. Their pleading had 
been hard to see all day, but to-night — 

“ They will catch the spires of the golden city 
soon,” thought Mark Gregory, .as he held the slight 
wrist in his hand and perceived how very faint the 
pulse was becoming. 

“Lay your tired head on Jesus’ arm, Eddie,” said 
the young man, soothingly. “ Don’t you remember 
how he loved children 1 ” 

“ Why don’t he send Miss Floy, then ? You asked 
him.” 

“ Still the same old persistent cry ! ” Mark Gregory 
sighed. He had penned those hasty lines faithlessly, 
smiling, almost, at his own audacity. How would she 


“ The Swelling of Jordan.” 197 

receive it, tliis gay young heiress, on New-year’s 
night, too, when she was most likely to be surrounded 
by the rich and the cultured. With what utter con- 
tempt might she not turn aside from this presumpt- 
uous request of his. What could it matter to her 
that this poor little life was ebbing away % What 
interest could there be for the petted daughter of 
Judge Fairfax in the death of a street vagrant ? Why 
should she think of him ? 

“ Is she coming ? ” asked the plaintive little voice 
again. 

Yes, she was coming. Lifting his head at the 
sound of a slight rustle at the end of the ward, Mark 
Gregory beheld two young girls approaching, one of 
whom leaned upon a crutch. 

The dying boy turned his head and saw them, 
too. 

“ It’s Miss Floy,” he said, in a hushed voice. 

“ Thank God ! ” murmured Mark Gregory, under 
his breath. 

Florence approached the bed, awe-struck and 
frightened. She had never looked upon death before, 
and it was terrible. 

“ Poor little Ned ! ” was all she could say. 

But the boy had brightened up with one of those 
strange brightenings which will sometimes flicker 
and flash, just as the lamp of life is going out. 

“Miss Floy,” he said, eagerly, “tell me again 
about the bright place where the cliildren play all 


198 A Golden Inheritance. 

day in the beautiful gardens, and night never 
comes.” 

Florence looked at Mark Gregory in bewilder- 
ment. 

“ What does he mean ? ” she asked. 

“ Some story you have told him, I imagine. lie 
has been running on for several days about Miss 
Floy and the bright place.” 

“ There couldn’t none of ’em tell me,” went on the 
boy, his voice weakening. “ You telled me last 
summer. Ho one else knows.” 

“ Ah,” said Florence, suddenly recollecting ; “ it is 
the story of the King’s gardens. I read it to you, I 
think. I will repeat it as nearly as I can remember. • 

“ ‘ A poor little girl was alone in the great city of 
London. Her mother and little brothers had died 
long ago, and her father was away all day at his work 
and until late in the evening. So the poor child 
stayed by herself in her lonely garret, day in and 
day out, and she grew so weary and so home-sick, 
that she would often kneel down and ask the dear 
Lord to take her home to his beautiful heaven where 
her mother and the little boys were. One night as 
she lay in her little bed, watching through the win- 
dow, she saw a bright, beautiful star in the sky. 
She gazed at it a long time, until at length it seemed 
to drop down, and then she perceived that it was only 
a diamond pin which fastened a great blue curtain, 
for the curtain fell away, and the little girl saw a 


“The Swelling of Jordan.” 199 

wonderful picture. There was a palace, fair and 
stately, the windows of which were diamonds, and 
every door and every gate a pearl, and in front of it 
stretched lovely gardens. Far as the eye could see 
were flowers; not such flowers as the child had ever 
seen before, but something far more rare and ex- 
quisite. The grass was velvet moss, and the dew- 
drops tiny jewels. The trees were hung with richest 
fruits. The. birds fluttering in and out were golden, 
and their voices like the sound of faint silver bells. 
The beautiful gardens were full of children — fair, 
sweet children in white dresses and flowing hair. 
The little girl was very near to the gardens, but she 
could not get in. Something seemed to hold her 
back. 

“ ‘ “ O, I want to come to you ! ” she cried, stretch- 
ing out her hands. 

“ ‘ But the children shook their heads and fluttered 
away. After awhile two little boys, with blue eyes 
and golden hair, came to the edge of the garden, and 
she recognized her brothers. 

“ ‘ “ O, let me in ; Paul, “Walter, let me in ! ” cried 
the child, but her brothers shook their heads as the 
others had done. 

“These are the King’s gardens,” they said, 
“and only those who have washed their garments 
white can come in ; ” and then they floated away 
on their white wings, and the little sister awoke. It 
was only a dream, but she never forgot it. It was 


200 


A Golden Inheritance. 


many years before this little one .was admitted into 
the beautiful gardens, but her life had been pure. 
She had washed her robes white in the blood of the 
Lamb.’ ” 

The boy’s great eyes had never moved from Flor- 
ence’s face as she told the story. 

“Washing your robes white, you said, meant trust- 
ing in Jesus ?” he said, eagerly, as she closed. “ Miss 
Floy, I’ve tried awful hard, I have. Nobody 
knows.” 

“ Jesus does,” said Florence, softly. 

“ Do you think they will let me into the beautiful 
gardens ? ” he asked, his eyes intensely anxious. 

“ I am sure of it, if you love God and have tried 
to do his will, and have trusted in Jesus Christ.” 

The eager eyes drooped with an expression of in- 
effable peace. 

“Miss Floy,” he whispered, “would you please 
sing ‘ Now I lay me down to sleep \ ’ I’m all tired 
out.” 

Florence sang ; the invalids all about her on 
their white beds raising themselves up to listen to 
the soft, tremulous voice as it floated to their sick 
ears. Mark Gregory looked and listened as one 
spell-bound. The dark mantle had fallen away from 
the young girl’s shoulders, exposing the rich evening 
dress, the costly lace, the pearls, and the rare w T hite 
flowers. What did it mean ? questioned Mark Greg- 
ory ; had she left the ball-room to be present at this 


“The Swelling of Jordan.” 201 

solemn scene \ What a strange blending of life and 
death it was ! 

But Florence’s unusual strength was giving way. 
Her sweet tones trembled and faltered sadly over 
the last notes. Bobin, seeing her dilemma, came to 
the rescue. The superb voice chiming in on the 
chorus was a revelation. Even the dull eyes of the 
dying unclosed in strange surprise : 

“ * Over there, just over there, 

I shall say my morning prayer.’ ” 

“ Have the angels from heaven come down to take 
the boy home ? ” whispered an old man to his nearest 
neighbor. 

The song ceased suddenly. The wings of the 
dark angel seemed well-nigh to have brushed the 
young singers. 

Mark Gregory stooped to raise the poor little head, 
but too late. On the wings of the beautiful song 
little Ked’s soul had drifted away. 

“Whither our sight cannot follow,” said Mark 
Gregory, reverently, as he pressed the pale lids down 
over the eyes that were “ all tired out.” 

Florence unfastened a cluster of white roses from 
her dress and laid them upon the still hands. 

“ He has found the King’s gardens,” she said, 
softly. 

“ I have not the least doubt of it,” said the young 
man, as he followed them down stairs. “He has 


202 


A Golden Inheritance. 


been in my mission class for some months, and has 
been making strong efforts upward. And now, 
Miss Fairfax, in the name of Jesus Christ, allow 
me to thank you for your presence here to-night. For 
many days the boy has been possessed of a strong de- 
sire to see you. 5 ' 

“Why has no one informed me of the fact be- 
fore ? ” demanded Florence. 

“Ho one had the courage, I think. Indeed, I 
considered it the height of presumption myself, but 
the wistful ness of the child’s eyes were too much for 
me to-night. I had scarcely a hope, though, that 
my few lines would bring you.” 

“ Why not ? Did you consider me a heathen ? ” 

“ By no means,” he answered, coloring ; “ but it 
was a great deal to ask a young lady to come here in 
such a storm as this, simply to gratify the desires 
of — ” 

“ One of Christ’s little, ones,” finished Florence. 

“ I thank you for your courage, Mr. Gregory,” she 
added, flashing a bright smile upon him as the 
carriage door closed. 

Mark Gregory looked after them with thoughtful 
eyes as they were whirled away through the white 
gloom. 

“Unspotted from the world!” he whispered, and 
went back to the solemn chamber of death with 
broader charity for all mankind. 

Meantime, among the gayly-dressed throng in Mrs. * 


u Tiie Swelling of Jordan.” 203 

Fairfax’s drawing-rooms, there was an air of wonder- 
ing expectancy. Had it not been understood that 
this was to be the occasion of Miss Florence’s debut f 
Where, then, was the young lady in whose honor the 
entertainment was given ? Had she fallen suddenly 
sick, or had the mother’s courage failed, at the elev- 
enth hour, to sustain her in her resolve to subject her 
unfortunate child to the criticisms of her friends ? 
As for that lady herself, her face bore unmistakable 
signs of annoyance. At what she deemed the proper 
time, she had requested her husband to go and escort 
Florence to the drawing-rooms. He had gone at her 
bidding and returned with the information that the 
young lady was not at home ! 

“ What do you mean ? ” demanded the lady. 
“ Where could she possibly have gone at this hour 
and in this storm ? ” 

Judge Fairfax did not know. He was simply in- 
formed that she had gone to the death-bed of little 
Hed Gavotte. Who little Hed Gavotte might be 
he was not prepared to state. 

At this announcement Mrs. Fairfax’s black eyes 
opened wide. So Mrs. Hunt had accomplished her 
end, after all, but how dishonorable to take this un- 
derhanded advantage to work upon the sympathies 
of a child like Florence, when she understood her 
mother’s expressed disapproval. 

“ How did Mrs. Hunt get here ? ” she demanded of 
the frightened Hora. 


204 


A Golden Inheritance. 


“ Mrs. Hunt ? She hasn’t been here ma’am, least- 
ways not since morning.” 

“ Who came after Miss Floy, then ? ” 

“ Nobody, only a boy brought a note. She went 
in her own carriage.” 

“ Where is the note ? ” 

Nora produced the bit of twisted paper which had 
dropped from Robin’s nervous fingers. Mrs. Fair- 
fax’s cheeks flushed indignantly as she read it. Who 
was this Mark Gregory that he should assume the 
right to upset her plans in this manner ? 

“I suppose Miss Fairfax did not state at what 
time she might be expected home ? ” asked the irate 
lady, biting her words. 

“ No, ma’am, she never said a word about coming 
back.” 

Mrs. Fairfax returned to her brilliant parlors with 
a small tempest of vexation raging within her. 
Truly the situation was a perplexing one. In what 
manner was she to account to her guests for the non- 
appearance of her daughter ? To explain this most 
singular freak would be wholly impolitic. They 
were not in sympathy with these platonic ideas. It 
was by no means that class of individuals who go out 
upon dark mountains seeking the lost which was as- 
sembled in Mrs. Fairfax’s drawing-rooms to night. 
No. And the announcement that Miss Florence had 
left her own home, filled, as it was, with the elite of 
Burlington, who had come to do her honor upon her 


“ The Swelling of Joed an . 55 205 

birthnight, to minister to the caprice of a sick 
pauper child, would meet with no response in these 
fashionable hearts. There was, therefore, nothing 
for Mrs. Fairfax to do but maintain her smiling 
placidity and wait. 

She had not so long to wait after all, for suddenly, 
without any warning, the delinquent appeared in the 
midst of them. She had come in quietly, leaning 
upon Robin’s arm, without, Mrs. Fairfax observed de- 
lightedly, the obnoxious crutch. She was speaking 
to people, and introducing her friend, in the quietest 
way, graceful and self-possessed, with none of that 
nervous embarrassment which -was always so apparent 
in her manner when called to face the fashionable 
world. Her face was pale and subdued, but never, 
the mother acknowledged, had the child appeared so 
well. Why even her lameness was scarcely percepti- 
ble. What new influence had thus transformed her '( 
Ah, Mrs. Fairfax, an influence of which you and your 
friends are all ignorant. 

As for Mrs. Fairfax’s guests, I am compelled to 
state that they were slightly discomfited by the turn 
of affairs. There was to be no particular show, then, 
after all. Nothing to talk over with pitying smiles 
and sympathizing “ too-bads.” They had come here 
to-night in a perfect flutter of pleasant expectation. 
This sudden freak of the Fairfaxes to enter “ poor 
little lame Floy” into society, was looked upon as 
something altogether new and unaccountable. Why 


206 A Golden Inheritance. 

hitherto they had fairly appeared to shield the child 
from Observation, as if she had been a monstrosity. 
Therefore it was that this party was looked forward 
to with unusual interest, and notwithstanding the 
severe storm, every one of the invited guests was 
present, each prepared to demolish poor Florence 
with sweet words and stores of well-bred pity. And, 
lo, there was nothing, after all, to be pitied. Here 
was the young heiress, standing among them, fair 
and calm, with a far-away look in her blue eyes, as if 
she saw past them all, and was lifted out of herself 
by the vision of something which was beyond their 
conception. And the calmness remained upon her 
all that evening. Nothing had power to move her 
out of her self-poise. 

It was not until the last of the gay throng had de- 
parted that Mrs. Fairfax found time or opportunity 
to arraign her young daughter. At the earliest pos- 
sible moment, however, she turned upon her the full 
blaze of her indignant black eyes. 

“ Now, Florence Fairfax, give an account of your- 
self. Who is this Eddie Gavotte, that you feel 
called upon to leave a houseful of company, a party 
made in your honor, to attend to his foolish 
whims ? ” 

“ He is — a ransomed soul.” 

“ What do you mean ? What is the matter with 
him ? ” 

“ Nothing ; he is beyond the storms of life.” 


“The Swelling of. Jordan.” 207 

“ Dead ? ” 

“Yes” 

“ Then you went for nothing, after all ? ” 

“ No, thank God ! we were in time.” 

“ In time ! You surely do not mean that he died 
while you w T ere there ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ And you came from a death-bed here ! Mercy 
on us, child ! No wonder you have been so absorbed 
all the evening. Well, of all things, this goes 
ahead ! ” 

Philip Fairfax had stood by listlessly. He turned 
now with an attempt at jest. 

“ What a mixing up of things it must have been 
for you, Floy. Indeed, I can account for your pallor, 
since you have been face to face with the King of 
Terrors. Miss Robin, were you, also, a participant in 
this nocturnal escapade ? ” 

Robin turned upon him the full splendor of her 
brown eyes, flashing now with indignation. 

“ Do you know what I always think of when I 
hear any one ridiculing or in any way speaking 
lightly of death ? ” 

“No, but I w T ould be pleased to hear.” 

“ c How wilt thou do in the swelling of Jordan ? 5 ” 
repeated Robin, with great solemnity. 

“ Are you any thing of a dramatist, Miss Holmes ? ” 
asked the gentleman, his lip curling slightly. 

But Judge Fairfax raised his stately gray head 


208 A Golden Inheritance. 

from its drooping posture, and his fine face was 
grave and stern. 

“ You repeated the quotation with admirable em- 
phasis, Eobin,” he said ; “ I fully agree with you in 
sentiment. Death is a theme too solemn and inevita- 
ble, of too momentous importance for the strongest 
of us to take upon thoughtless lips. We must all 
pass through the swelling of Jordan, and, God help 
us ! the foolish ones of earth will confound the mighty 
perhaps upon that dread passage. I confess, my own 
feet shrink back from the cold waves trembling and 
dismayed.” 

Mrs. Fairfax arose with a gesture of impatience. 

“ There, there,” she said, hastily. “ Do let the 
subject drop. What is the use of discussing such 
unpleasant matters at this time ? Go to bed, all of 
you, at once.” 


Foolishness. 


209 


XIX. 

FOOLISHNESS. 

“ Far better to keep in the narrow path, 

Nor turn to the left or right ; 

For if we loiter at morning, 

What shall we do when the night 
Falls back on our lonely journey, 

And we mourn our vain delay ? ” 

A MORE discouraged, weary, heart-sick young per- 
son than was Robin Holmes, one disagreeable 
March night, it would have been hard to find in all 
Burlington. The weather, perhaps, may have had 
something to do with it. Indeed, it is often the 
w r eatlier, and nothing else, which plants that ugly- 
looking frown upon more than one of the twisted 
faces which you are apt to meet when the wind is in 
the east, especially during the montli of March. 

And this was the ugliest of March nights. Such a 
one as you can recall, perhaps, with a cold east wind 
chilling the very marrow of your bones, and driving 
into your face a shower of blinding sleet, each little, 
sharp diamond seeming to be aimed directly at your 
eyes, while you feel your spirit growing more and 
more turbulent at every step, and if you have far to 
go, you are conscious of a strong inclination to break 

into a run, no matter how ridiculous such a proceeding 
14 


210 A Golden Inheritance. 

may appear, considering your age, sex, or dignity of 
position. 

To Robin, speeding along through the wet, miser- 
able twilight, it seemed as if even the very elements 
had combined to arouse the demon of discontent 
within her. It had been an unusually depressing 
day at the office. She had found several serious mis- 
takes in her accounts, and once even Mr. Dunbar 
had spoken very sharply, as he noticed the errors. 
The cause of it all, perhaps, originated in the fact 
that Robin had attended an evening party oil the 
previous night, and had danced far into the small 
hours. Indeed, these recreations of Robin’s were be- 
coming so frequent of late, that Mrs. Dunbar, discov- 
ering the fact, could not forbear a little quiet exulta- 
tion over her husband. 

“I told you so,” she said, triumphantly. “You 
can’t make a bee out of a butterfly. The sooner you 
dismiss Robin Holmes, and put a steady-going young 
man in her place, the better you will be off.” 

Mr. Dunbar smiled serenely. He knew, better 
than any one else, the effect which late hours and dis- 
sipation were having upon Robin. Her pale cheeks 
i and listless, pre-occupied manner were by no means 
pleasing to him. Neither was he at all satisfied with 
the very poor service which she was rendering him 
in consequence of this new departure. He was slow 
to acknowledge, even to himself, how strict an eye 
he was obliged to keep upon her books of late, and 


Foolishness. 


211 


how many times he had been annoyed, even beyond 
the limits of his patience, at her egregious blunders. 
Many business men, he was well aware, would have 
dismissed her for far less serious faults; but Mr. 
Dunbar, as we have said before, had an immense 
heart. When he did a good thing he did it grandly. 
Little discouragements did not turn him ofi: the 
track. In the case of Robin, when he held out his 
big, strong hand to help her to her feet, he did not 
see the propriety of withdrawing it the instant she 
stumbled. Having given her the position, at the 
risk of his own interest, it might be, he had no in- 
tention of washing his hands of her the first time 
she erred, nor the second. Still, there were days 
when he found that he had need of great cour- 
age to sustain him in his good resolve concerning 
her. 

“ I’m out of patience with all the world,” mut- 
tered Robin, stooping to recover her vail, which the 
wind had loosened and blown some rods ahead of 
her. “ Most of all with myself, and 'next — ” 

“ Please, miss, would yez be afther givin’ me a 
penny,” whined a woman’s voice at her elbow. “ Me 
childer are starvin’, and I’ve jist parted wid me last 
dollar.” 

“For rum, no doubt,” snapped Robin, hurrying 
past. But the woman kept pace with her. 

“ Ho, miss, I declare to ye, if ’tis the last word I 
iver spake, I paid it for rint, and it’s nary a penny 


212 


A Golden Iniieeitance. 


I’ve got for me poor little childer. Please, miss, 
for the howly Vargin’s sake ! ” 

Robin drew out her purse, impatiently. It con- 
tained nothing smaller than a dollar bill. She fin- 
gered it over, looking doubtfully into the woman’s 
face. If it was true the children were starving — 
but then one never knew when to believe these mis- 
erable wretches ; and, besides, that dollar would buy 
a lovely bit of lace for the neck of her new dress. 
Ho, she had no dollar bills to throw away. 

“ I have nothing for you, not a cent,” she said, 
sharply, closing her purse with a snap. 

“ O please, miss,” whined the woman, still keeping 
close at her side, with outstretched hand. 

“ If you don’t clear out I’ll call a policeman ! ” 
snarled Robin, with more energy than refinement, 
succeeding at last in escaping her tormentor. 

She reached home at length, finding matters scarce- 
ly less dolorous. The sitting-room fire was out, and 
Aunty Whipple sat before the kitchen range toasting 
her face, which was bound about with a handker- 
chief. 

“Well, what’s the matter now \ ” sighed Robin. 

“ Matter enough. I’m nearly crazy with tooth- 
ache. Hot a wink of sleep will I get this night.” 

“Well, you have no one to blame but yourself,” 
said Robin, impatiently. “ I told you this morning 
how it would be if you persisted in hanging out those 
clothes, but you wouldn’t listen.” 


Foolishness. 


213 


“ I lmng out clothes before you was born, Eobin 
Holmes;” said Aunty Whipple, with a severe glance 
at the discontented face. “ ’Taint worth while for 
you to begin to advise me about takin’ care of my- 
self. This tooth has been decayed for years.” 

“ Why don’t you have it out, then ? ” 

“ I expect to when the time comes. I’d go to the 
dentist’s now if it wasn’t too late.” 

“Well, it isn’t. Do, for pity’s sake, go and get 
rid of it. I never could endure to have any one 
around growling with the toothache.” 

“ Seems to me you’re in a rut yourself, Miss 
Holmes. I don’t know as it’s any worse to be growl- 
ing wfith toothache than any thing else. I believe, 
though, I will go to the dentist’s if I can find one 
without trapesing all over town. It’s an awful night 
to go out, though.” 

“ Ho it isn’t ; it’s delightful,” laughed Eobin. 

She brought wraps and bundled the old nurse up 
to her eyes, and finally had the satisfaction of seeing 
her depart, muttering grievously on her way to find 
a dentist. 

Eobin’s spirits rose as, having eaten her supper, 
she rekindled the sitting-room fire and straightened 
the room with a vague expectation, she scarcely knew 
of what. The sudden ringing of the door-bell sent a 
rush of crimson into her cheeks. 

Philip Fairfax, stepping from the cold and storm 
into the little, old-fashioned room which Eobin’s deft 


214 A Golden Inheritance. 

fingers had made so attractive, gave a low whistle of 
satisfaction. 

“ Nothing like a wood-fire for a night like this,” 
he said, rubbing his hands over the ruddy blaze and 
looking long into the lovely, downcast face at his 
side. “ I suppose you wonder what brought me out 
on such a stormy night,” he said, after a vain attempt 
at indifferent conversation, “ but I may as well con- 
fess what is so apparent to you and every one else. 
I cannot do without you, Robin. There is an attrac- 
tion about you which draws me constantly to your 
side. Just what it is I cannot tell. If I were 
twenty instead of thirty I should think I was in love, 
but all that nonsense is past for me long ago, and 
besides — ” 

He paused with a curious glance into the big 
brown eyes which met his with such a childishly 
innocent expression. Should he tell her or should 
he not? Would the beautiful eyes turn away from 
him in disgust ? He could not bear that, and yet it 
would not do to deceive Robin Holmes. 

“Besides what?” asked Robin, with a touch of 
nervous irritation in her voice ; for some reason she 
did not quite relish this last speech from the lips of 
King Philip. 

Philip Fairfax was unaccountably embarrassed. 
He turned uneasily in his chair. It was not pleasant 
to have that purely honest gaze searching his soul. 
There was much in his life that would fear the light 


Foolishness. 


215 


of no such investigation. Still there were some 
things which she must know soon or later, for be- 
fore such a child as Fobin he dared not be dis- 
honest. 

“What will you say if I tell you that I am en- 
gaged ? ” he asked, suddenly, confronting her startled" 
eyes with a forced laugh. 

“ I do not suppose I should consider it necessary to 
say any thing,” replied Fobin, in an indifferent voice, 
after a moment’s pause. 

Like a flood there had come rushing over her a vast 
number of words, looks, and actions on the part of this 
man which corresponded ill with this plain statement 
of a serious fact. Like a flash came another realiza- 
tion — that he had done her a serious wrong. But it 
was a part of Fobin’s code never to show when she 
was hurt ; so she met this statement with an affecta- 
tion of coolest indifference. What mattered it to her 
that Philip Fairfax was engaged ? Why should the 
be uneasy about it ? 

The gentleman was, to tell the truth, a trifle cha- 
grined at this careless demeanor of Fobin’s ; not that 
he had expected any thing else, still it would have 
been gratifying to his vanity bad there been some 
little show of disconcertion. Was she, then, after all, 
so complete a child that all these marked attentions 
of his bestowing were, in her estimation, utterly 
meaningless and unimportant ? This was certainly 
not the manner in which the young ladies whom he 


216 


A Golden Inheritance. 


liad hitherto been pleased to smile upon were in the 
habit of receiving this candid announcement. 

“ However,” he consoled himself, “ I ought to be 
thankful that she has escaped unharmed.” 

“ You do not seem particularly interested in the 
subject ? ” he said, after a pause, during which Robin 
had been industriously counting the stitches in an af- 
ghan which she was crocheting. 

She looked up now with a slightly bewildered 
air. 

“ In what subject ? what were we talking about ? 
O, your engagement ! Certainly I am interested, if 
you chose to tell me about it. Indeed, I wonder 
that you have never spoken of it before.” 

He laughed discordantly. 

“ Well, to tell the truth, Robin, I am not so proud 
of it as perhaps I should be. Lottie Gladstone is not 
exactly the woman I would have for my wife had I 
been left free to make my own choice, but it seems 
to have been a family compact for years. The ar- 
rangement was made by our respective families be- 
fore either of us was old enough to be consulted. 
That we might not accord with their ideas, was an 
obstacle which does not appear to have presented it- 
self to their consideration. Miss Gladstone is sole 
heiress to a large property, and it was deemed emi- 
nently proper that she should be provided with a suit- 
able husband, in order to prevent one of those mis- 
alliances which are becoming so frequent among 


Foolishness. 


217 


young ladies in high life ; I, therefore, was selected 
as the victim, from the consideration that, being a 
Fairfax, I must of necessity present qualifications 
which would render me sufficiently immaculate. I was 
formally betrothed to Miss Gladstone at a very early 
age, and since then, so long as I have paid a reason- 
able amount of attention to my fair affianced, I have 
been permitted to follow the bent of my own sweet 
will.” 

“ Why have you never married ? ” asked Fobin, 
with an innocent glance at his face. “ You certainly 
are old enough.” He flushed slightly. 

“ Miss Gladstone is some years younger than my- 
self. At the time of our betrothal she was but 
sixteen. She is now twenty-two and something of a 
belle, I believe. She is in no haste to settle down ; 
and as for me, I propose to enjoy my freedom as 
long as possible. Fobin, I suppose you are wonder- 
ing why I have told you all this.” 

She was not wondering at all. Nevertheless she 
looked up with the most inquiring of glances. 

“ I thought — I was afraid you would think — ” he 
began, and then stopped short. It was not easy to 
tell this bright girl what he had feared. But Fobin 
laughed musically. 

“ You were afraid I would think you wanted to 
marry me,” she said. 

Philip Fairfax turned away from the laughing 
eyes. 


218 


A Golden Inheritance. 


“ "What a knack she has for making a man feel 
like a fool ! ” he muttered, under his breath, “ and 
yet how bewitching she is with it all.” Then he 
burst out, impulsively, “ I wish, with all my heart, I 
were free to do so.” 

“ I am just as much obliged to you as if you were. 
You probably would not consider it necessary to con- 
sult me in the question ? ” 

“ Indeed, I am not half so conceited as you think,” 
he said, eagerly. “I should hesitate a long time 
before I subjected myself to your yea or nay. But 
where is the use of discussing what is so decidedly 
out of the question? We can be friends all the 
same, I suppose ? ” 

Pobin did not answer. Friendship between 
herself and Philip Fairfax meant more than she 
would have been willing to admit. Punning over, 
in rapid review, the whole character of his behavior 
toward her from the hour of their first meeting, 
together with the fact that only a few moments ago 
he had declared that he wished that he were free to 
marry her, Pobin was conscious of a little sting 
of shame darting through her while she reflected 
that all this she had accepted from a man who 
acknowledged himself, in God’s sight, wedded to 
another. 

From her earliest childhood she had been taught, 
by the purest of mothers, to regard marriage, or an 
engagement of marriage, as something equal in 


Foolishness. 


219 


sacredness even to religion itself. The idea that 
she might tamper in this light way with what she 
considered a holy relationship had not before pre- 
sented itself to her. Every honorable instinct 
within her rose up against this proposal of friend- 
ship. It could be of no possible benefit to either one 
of them. For herself, these little love-like attentions, 
these delicious flatteries and foolish delights, were 
fast leading her out of the strict path which she had 
marked out for herself. And Philip Fairfax had 
told her, in plain words, that her influence over him 
was greater than that of any other woman, while in 
the same breath he avowed that he had plighted his 
sacred troth to this Lottie Gladstone ! . 

ISTo, Robin acknowledged, the most unreasoning 
soul could invent no possible excuse which would 
justify this freedom of intercourse between Philip 
Fairfax and herself, and yet there was a reason why 
she did not wish to bid this young man go and be 
true to the woman whom he had pledged himself 
most to honor. A very foolish one, it is true, but 
human nature is miserably foolish, and Robin Holmes 
was no exception. Her greatest foolishness was her 
pride. If she bade this man, as she knew the right 
demanded she should, to leave her presence, and not 
to cross her path again until he was clothed in his 
right mind, he would think (and the foolish cheeks 
burned red and hot at the thought) that she had 
been attaching undue importance to his attentions ; 


220 


A Golden Iniiekitance. 


that since she had lost hope of gaining entire posses- 
sion of him, she would break off from all intercourse 
with him lest she should lose her heart ! Now this 
was the most ridiculous of reasoning, not uncommon 
even to the most sensible of young ladies. 

How much misery and shame and wretchedness 
would be avoided if there were more of brave com- 
mon sense in the world, and less of silly sentiment- 
alism ! 

“Well,” said Philip Fairfax, at length, leaning for 
ward to tap the burning cheek with his finger, 
“ what argues this long silence ? Surely you cannot 
consider it necessary to reflect so long upon so small a 
matter.” 

Robin raised her eyes with an angry flash in their 
brown depths. Was it so small a matter to him, 
then ? 

“ Why, I was not reflecting at all,” she said, laugh- 
ing carelessly, even with a pang of self-reproach at 
her own untruthfulness ; “ I am so stupid to-night. 
Did you ask me a question ?” 

“ I asked you if we could still be friends.” 

“ An absurd question, I should think. I see no 
reason that we should not, unless I have given you 
some cause of offense. You certainly have given me 
none.” 

Ah Robin, Robin, Satan is desiring to have you, 
that he may sift you as wheat ! 


Stolen Honey. 


221 


XX. 

STOLEN HONEY. 

“ I look for sweetest flowers throughout the morn, 

1 look, and lo ; at noontide they are gone.” 

I T was eight o’clock the next morning when Eobin 
came down stairs. 

“ Seems to me you’re getting into bad habits,” said 
Aunty Whipple, shortly, as she set the coffee-pot on 
the table. “ I don’t know what Mr. Dunbar thinks. 
This is the third morning you’ve been late. I’m 
afraid his patience wont hold out much longer.” 

“ O never mind preaching now,” said Eobin, seat- 
ing herself at the table and unfolding her napkin, 
“ did you get rid of the tooth last night ?” 

“I’m happy to say I did. Never had any thing . 
hurt so in my life, either. It seemed as though my 
jaw fairly snapped.” 

“ O, do stop !” said Eobin, shuddering, “ there’s 
nothing on earth so dreadful as tooth-pulling ; it’s an 
outrage on human nature. I always put it off as long 
as possible.” ^ 

“ Where’s the sense in that ? If it’s got to come 
some time, the sooner it’s over the better you’re off ; 
I’ve lived a good many years, and if I liaint learned 
any thing else, I’ve learned this : that when a dis- 


222 


A Golden Inheritance. 


agreeable thing is to be done or endured, there’s no 
use whatever o’ lookin’ at it and considerin’ on it. 
We’ve got to be soldiers in this life, if we live at all, 
and it’s always best to face the music the first minute 
you hear it coming, and let that be the end of it.” 

At that juncture Evert Russel’s smiling face ap- 
peared in the door-way. 

“ Gospel truth, every word of it,” he said, heartily, 
“ and applicable to plenty of other disagreeable things 
besides tooth-pulling. I hope you will pardon my 
unceremonious entrance. After I had rung the bell 
three times without gaining an answer I took the 
liberty of stepping into the sitting-room. I am on 
my way down town, and called that I might have the 
pleasure of company. I w T as afraid I would be too 
late, though, to find you at home.” 

“ Which Aunty Whipple thinks ought to be the 
case,” laughed Robin, and then she w T as silent, won- 
dering if it would not have been wiser to have borne 
the pang of parting with Philip Fairfax and sending 
him out of her thoughts at once, than to persist in a 
course which must be harmful when the disagreeable 
thing must come, soon or later. Why could she not 
have been brave in this matter ? 

“ It is a terribly hard world,” she said, sighingly, as 
they stepped out into the cold gray morning. 

“ Hard ? Yes, if one is determined to make it so.” 

“Who is determined to make it so? Surely 
not I.” 


Stolen Honey. 


223 


“ I beg your pardon, I am very much afraid you 
are.” 

Robin’s head took its obstinate set; she had not 
much patience with this old friend of late. 

“ He is growing into a prig,” she said to herself. 

The fact was, he was climbing far above her in 
nobleness and strength of character. Poor Robin, 
from her lowly stand-point, could scarcely keep him in 
sight, and it vexed her exceedingly to discover how 
very far she was falling behind him. 

Two little girls were walking just ahead of them 
on their way to school, and during the pause in their 
own conversation fragments of their childish chatter 
floated back to them. 

“ I don’t know the first word of my geography 
lesson,” said one of the little girls to the other. “ I 
was awful sick last night and couldn’t learn it. I 
w r onder if I’ll have to stay in.” 

“ I ’spect you will, specially if you tell the teacher 
how it happened.” 

“ If I tell her what ? ” 

“ If you tell her how you stole your mother’s honey, 
and eat so much of it that you got sick.” 

“ Sue Howard ! How did you find that out ? I 
didn’t, neither.” 

“ I’ll bet you five dollars you did. Belle told me, 
any way ; and Belle wouldn’t tell a story. You got 
sick eatin’ stolen honey and nothin’ else, Han Dutton. 
So now ! ” 


224 A Golden Inheeitance. 

Young Eussel turned to his companion with a 
grave smile. 

“ Little Nan is not the only one in the world who 
has been made sick by stolen honey,” he said, quietly. 

“ O, no doubt you think I am suffering from a 
similar experience.” 

“ Well, are you not ? Haven’t you been eating 
stolen honey ? ” 

“Possibly I have. It has not made me sick, 
though.” 

u Hasn’t it ? Didn’t you just say that it was a 
terribly hard world ? ” 

“ I see no connection of ideas. Plenty of your most 
orthodox, steady-going people have been known to 
make similar statements under certain circumstances.” 

“ No doubt of it. One can get sick of eating bitter 
herbs as well as honey.” 

“ Indeed ! What kind of a diet would you recom- 
mend, Sir Oracle % ” 

“ For the healthy growth of the human soul there 
is but one kind, the substantial.” 

“ Nicknacks and dainties may be indulged in with 
propriety now and then, I suppose,” said Eobin, with 
a toss of her head. 

“ Eobin, excuse me ; but I see you are in danger, 
and I must sound a note of warning. To change the 
metaphor: no one can play with fire for one in- 
stant and not be burned. We have no business to 
take the first step out of the plain path. I have 


Stolen Honey. 


225 


learned, by a bitter experience, that it is tlie easiest 
thing in the world to destroy the soul-health, and 
those very things which we consider of the smallest 
importance are the ones which contain the most 
poison. 55 

Robin turned and confronted him. 

“ How, Evert Russel, suppose you drop figures of 
speech and make a literal statement of what you con- 
sider 4 stolen honey, 5 and 4 playing with fire, 5 and all 
that. So far you have been speaking in riddles. 55 

44 Why, Robin, 55 he said, very gently, 44 1 do not 
wish to offend you, but are you fully persuaded in 
your own mind that late hours and dancing, private 
theatricals and masquerades, etc., are not injurious to 
your health, both of mind and body ? Why, to me a 
continual round of these gayeties in which you have 
been indulging this winter would be most destruct- 
ive. I should be good for nothing. 55 

44 Well, if I were so weak-minded as to be destroyed 
by a little pleasurable excitement now and then, I 
would not acknowledge it. Thank fortune, there are 
some happy souls who are strong enough to tide the 
mighty torrent in safety. 55 

44 Excuse me, I think not. Or, at least, if there are 
souls, there are very few bodies whose strength is 
sufficient to hold out under such a severe strain. It 
is a trespass against the laws of health, which laws, if 
disregarded, must, without fail, visit upon the offender 

their utmost penalty. A body weakened in this way 
15 


226 


A Golden Inheritance. 


is almost certain to induce a weak mind. There may 
be exceptional cases, but I have never met with any. 
Besides, we have no right to pursue a course which in 
any way unfits us for our life-work, whether the 
strength required be mental or physical.” 

“ I suppose Mr. Dunbar has not complained of any 
deficiency on my part as the result of my nightly 
carousals ? ” said Robin, bitterly. 

“ No, he has not. But there is a higher authority 
than Mr. Dunbar, to whom you are accountable, and 
One that is far more grieved by your present course 
than he can ever be.” 

They had reached the store, and Robin, stepping 
upon the door-sill, with her hand upon the knob, 
turned a flushed and angry face upon the young 
student. 

“What an excellent sermonizer you will make, 
Evert Russel! Since you have undertaken to con- 
vert me from the error of my ways, I hope you 
will leave no stone unturned. Is there any other 
sin of which I am guilty ? ” 

“ There is another influence from which I would 
be glad to see you removed,” he said, eagerly. 

“Well, go on ; don’t hesitate to mention it.” 

He drew nearer and whispered, “ Philip Fairfax .” 

The hot flush mounted to Robin’s forehead. She 
drew back with an imperious gesture, bowed haugh- 
tily, and then the heavy door swung behind her with 
a slam. 


An Opportunity. 


227 


XXL 

AN OPPORTUNITY. 

“ One keeps, in her loving compassion, 

Wide room for all under the sun, 

White hands of strong help she outstretcheth 
To captive, and poor, and undone. 

I know she will shine as a ruby, 

On the breast of the crucified One.” 

“TT’S astonishing what a difference there is in 

JL shades of the same color. How these bonnet 
strings are just a trifle softer than my dress, and I 
was positive, when I laid the two together, that they 
matched exactly. How provoking it is ! I spent 
the whole forenoon over those shades ; do look, Floy, 
can’t you, and give me your opinion, if it is worth 
any thing.” 

Mrs. Fairfax turned from the contemplation of 
herself in the mirror and confronted her daughter 
with some irritation in face and voice. Florence was 
bending absorbed over the pages of “ John Halifax.” 
She closed the book, sighing to be called from the 
consideration of so noble a life, to such prosaic mat- 
ters as the different shades of satin. 

Mrs. Fairfax, however, in the full glory of her new 
carriage toilet, was no mean object. The rich, ex- 
quisitely blended shades of velvet and satin, all of the 


228 


A Golden Inheritance. 


softest garnet, harmonized so beautifully with the 
clear olive tints of the lady’s complexion, the lus- 
trous brown of her eyes, and the blue-black of her 
hair, that Florence’s beauty-loving eyes brightened as 
she gazed, and she gave a little unconscious “ O ” of 
delight. 

“Your dress is superb, mamma,” she said, en- 
thusiastically. “ I never saw any thing so becom- 
ing.” 

“ But do you not perceive the difference between 
the bonnet strings and the rest ? ” asked the gratified 
mother, turning once again to the mirror. 

“ I see no defect. You are faultily faultless, icily 
regular.” She stopped, laughing. It would scarcely 
do to say “ splendidly null.” 

But she might have finished her quotation with all 
propriety, so far as any risk of hurting Mrs. Fairfax’s 
feelings were concerned. She would have consid- 
ered it no detriment to be splendidly null. So long 
as she was splendid, it mattered little whether she 
impressed the beholder as deep or shallow. 

“ I am pleased enough with the dress, all but these 
bonnet strings,” she went on, fastening the lace at 
her throat with a brooch of rose-red rubies. “ What 
a pity it is that one can never be thoroughly satisfied 
with any thing. There must always be some trifling 
defect.” 

“ That is the law of life,” sighed Florence, relaps- 
ing into her book again. Mrs. Fairfax drew on her 


An Opportunity. 


229 


gloves and fastened them, complacently, notwith- 
standing the defective bonnet-strings. 

“ You see, I want to look as well as possible to- 
day,” she said. “ I am going to call upon Mrs. Sen- 
ator Allison. She is something of a criterion in the 
matter of dress, though she never makes any appear- 
ance with that pale face and insignificant figure of 
hers. There is the door-bell ! Who on earth can be 
calling at this hour, and my carriage standing at the 
door. I wish people had sense enough to make their 
calls when it suits me to receive them.” 

“ If you please, Mrs. Fairfax, it is the sewing-girl,” 
announced the servant, who had answered the ring. 

“ That girl again ! What nuisances such people 
are ! She need not come in. I will see her at the 
door.” 

“ Mrs. Fairfax, would you please advance me five 
dollars on the work I am doing for you ? ” were the 
words which floated in to Florence, in tremulously 
eager tones. 

“ No. I make it a rule never to pay in advance 
for any thing. When you have finished the work, 
bring it to me, and you shall receive the money 
promptly.” 

“ But, if you please, madam, it is a case of great 
necessity,” went on the girl, speaking very rapidly, 
in her eagerness. “ Mr. Mills has threatened to close 
the doors upon us to-morrow morning if we cannot pay 
the rent. We haven’t a friend in the city ; absolutely 


230 


A Golden Inheritance. 


nowhere to go, my mother and I. She is delicate, 
and I mnst save her from exposure ; think of it, 
madam, to be turned into the street ! ” 

“ There is not the least danger of such a thing. 
They always make such threats,, these low landlords. 
You may be sure they have no intention of carrying 
them out while they see a ray of hope for getting 
their money.” 

“ Couldn’t you possibly let me have it, just this 
once,” persisted the girl. “ Think, madam, if it was 
your own daughter.” 

“ My daughter is not to be mentioned in any such 
connection,” said Mrs. Fairfax, haughtily, as she 
swept past the eager petitioner and entered her car- 
riage. The girl stood a moment, looking after the 
retreating carriage, then, like some wounded thing, 
she turned and dashed away in the opposite direction. 

The pitying blue eyes in the window followed 
her as far as they could see, and then returned to the 
book again. But for some reason, “ John Halifax ” 
had ceased to interest. Floy’s gentle heart was fol- 
lowing the pale-faced girl who had sped away so swift- 
ly beneath the burden of her ungratified desire. 

“ I am always so slow,” murmured Florence, self- 
reproachfully. “ I might have called her back, but 
she was off like a bird. Well, she is beyond my help 
now, poor thing. God will take care of her.” 

She opened the book again, read a few lines 
abstractedly, and laid it down. 


An Oppoetunity. 


231 


“ It is no use,” slie soliloquized, rising, u I cannot 
sit here reading about grand characters and behaving 
so ignobly myself, while that poor creature is chasing 
up and down these muddy streets in a vain search for 
& human heart among the ladies for whose adornment 
she is wearing her life away. God has thrust this 
opportunity upon me, which I cannot disregard with- 
out incurring his displeasure.” 

Just what she was going to do Florence could not 
have told, as she fastened on her hat and wrap pre- 
paratory to going out ; but the earnest eyes which 
looked back at her from the glass were alight with 
an intense resolve. It required more courage than 
one would have thought possible for this young girl 
to venture into the public thoroughfare on foot, and 
alone. Scarcely since her accident had she taken a 
step in the street. The nervous dread of being ob- 
served by acquaintances, or attracting the attention 
of strangers, had become almost a terror to the sensi- 
tive spirit. The idea, therefore, of limping down 
town with the aid of her crutch, was almost in- 
tolerable. “ For Christ’s sake, who wandered whole 
nights on cold mountains,” she murmured, and the 
thought sustained her. After all, it might be that 
she was going on a vain pursuit. Her imperfect 
steps she well knew could have kept no pace with 
the girl’s winged feet, even if she had not been so 
far ahead of her in the chase, and the overtaking of 
her was all Florence had to depend upon, for she 


232 


A Golden Inheritance. 


was totally ignorant of the number or of the street 
upon which her wretched lodgings were to be found. 
Still, there was a hope, the faint shadow of a hope, 
that somewhere in all this crowd she might catch a 
glimpse of the lithe figure in its dark attire. At 
any rate, she must make the effort, and so she kept 
on, through the thickest of the crowd, too absorbed 
now in her eager quest to take note of the occasional 
curious glances which were directed at her ; for Floy’s 
fair, exquisite face, together with her helpless condi- 
tion, could not fail to draw attention in a spot like 
this, so thoroughly out of place did it seem, much 
like finding a rare and cultivated flower blooming on 
the dusty highway. But, for once in her life, Flor- 
ence Fairfax had lost that wretched self-consciousness 
which set so heavily upon her of late. Moved out 
of herself by the desire to do the will of her Father 
in heaven, she was all unmindful of the gaze of 
curious eyes, her whole heart springing up in a 
prayer that the great eye which notes the sparrow’s 
fall would not permit her little mission of love to 
prove fruitless. 

But the maimed feet, all unused to a tramp like 
this, gave out at length, and thoroughly exhausted, 
she stopped and drew T out her watch. Six o’clock 
of a cloudy March night, darkness coming on and — 
was it a drop of rain? She raised lrr face to the 
sky, doubtfully; yes, a slow T mist was beginning to 
fall. Florence looked about her, perplexed and help- 


An Opportunity. 


233 


less. What was she to do ? Must she give up the 
search, after all, and go home unsuccessful? She 
could not stand here any longer, and to go further 
seemed a useless task. Should she take a street 
car back, or — she started suddenly forward with 
eager eyes. The sewing-girl at last, on the opposite 
pavement, was standing still a moment, as if deliberat- 
ing which way to go. Florence took a step forward, 
and stopped in dismay. How was it possible for her 
to cross the street ? She could never thread her way 
through that labyrinth of carriages, trucks, cars, and 
omnibuses. y 

“ W ill you allow me to assist you ? ” asked a famil- 
iar voice at her side. 

She looked up eagerly. 

“ Mr. Gregory ! ” she exclaimed. 

The gentleman’s face brightened. 

“ Miss Fairfax ! Is it possible ! ” 

But Miss Fairfax’s blue eyes were wholly taken 
up with some object across the street. 

“Mr. Gregory, will you please stop that girl for 
me?” she cried, eagerly, as soon as she found her- 
self safely over. u That one, just moving away, with 
the red wing in her hat.” 

The next instant the perplexed and troubled sew- 
ing-girl felt a strong hand laid gently upon her arm. 
She turned with a nervous start, but a glance into 
the kindly eyes of Mark Gregory disarmed her fears. 
Florence came up to them smiling. 


234 


A Golden Inheritance. 


u If you knew what a chase I have liad after you ! ” 
she -said. 

“ After me ! ” exclaimed the girl, starting again, 
with a frightened flush straining her pale cheeks. 

“ I am Miss Fairfax,” said Florence, unclasping her 
purse. “ If you had come to me in the first place 
you would have saved me the trouble of pursuing 
you. I wish to advance you the money which you 
need. Will ten dollars pay your indebtedness ? ” 

The despairing eyes brightened. 

“ Ten dollars, miss ? Five is the amount which I 
owe the landlord.” 

“ Well, take the whole of it,” said Florence, press- 
ing the money into her hand, “ you will have need of 
it.” 

“ O, Miss Fairfax, I can never thank you enough ! ” 
cried the girl, tears of relief rushing into her eyes. 
“ I have called at a dozen places since I left your 
house, in the effort to collect money which was due 
me, or an advancement of that five dollars. I had no 
idea that people were so pitiless. I have been in 
town only a few months. I have had plenty of 
work, but was laid aside a week on account of 
sickness, and in that way I fell behind with the rent. 
Still, if people would only pay me what they owe I 
would have had more than enough. If we had only 
stayed in the country ! There people are kind.” 

“ Go back to the country,” said Florence. “ This 
is no place for a friendless girl.” 


An Opportunity. 


235 


“ So I thought ten minutes ago, but I have changed 
my opinion.” 

“ Why ? ” asked Mark Gregory, curiously. 

“ Because I have found a Christian heart even in 
this Sodom. God bless you, Miss Fairfax ! ” And 
choking back the tears which were rising, she hurried 
away. 

“Miss Fairfax, it pays, does it not?” asked Mark 
Gregory, turning to his companion with his sunny 
smile. 

“With compound interest. I feel as if I could 
walk five miles instead of one for that 6 God bless 
you ! ’ ” 

“ There is no pleasure on earth so deep, sweet, and 
abiding as that which follows the effort to bear one 
another’s burdens. I wonder that more of the world 
who are chasing up and down the universe in a vain 
search after happiness do not hit upon this unfailing 
plan. I know scores of men and women who are 
fretting their lives out day by day because, with 
every thing about them to enjoy, happiness will not 
come at the bidding. If they could but forget their 
precious selves long enough to let a little of their own 
fullness drop into the empty lives about them, I think 
they would soon begin to find that this world is not so 
terribly bad, after all. Is it not so, Miss Fairfax ?” 

“Ho doubt of it,” said Florence, thoughtfully, “ if 
we were only quick enough to seize our opportunities 
as they go flying past us.” 


236 


A Golden Inheritance. 


Mrs. Judge Fairfax, lying back upon the cushions 
of her carriage, and rolling in splendid state through 
the crowded thoroughfare at that moment, caught an 
interesting picture, so interesting that she leaned 
from the window with dilating eyes. Florence, posi- 
tively Florence, standing in the thickest of the crowd, 
sheltered away from the rain beneath an awning, her 
eyes alight and cheeks rose-hued, engaged in earnest 
conversation with a strange young man ! Mrs. Fair- 
fax arrested the driver’s attention sharply, and the 
next instant the carriage drew up to the curb-stone 
close to where the earnest pair were standing, and 
Mrs. Fairfax’s haughty face beamed out upon them. 

“ Florence, will you please get in and ride home ? ” 
she said, in the frostiest of voices. 

Florence smiled serenely. “ How very fortunate. 
This is my friend, Mr. Gregory, mamma.” 

Mrs. Fairfax gave Mr. Gregory the stiffest of bows, 
but Florence held out her hand and flashed back 
upon him a radiant smile as the carriage moved away 
again. 

“Well, Florence Fairfax, I must say this is the 
most extraordinary conduct ! ” burst out the incensed 
mother. “ What were you doing in this part of town 
at nightfall with a strange man ? ” 

“ Improving an opportunity, mamma.” 

“ Another Eddie Gavotte affair, I suppose. Who 
is this Gregory, any way % ” 

u God’s servant, I think,” said Florence. 


An Opportunity. 


237 


“I do wish you would be reasonable,” said the 
mother, fretfully. “ You always bad a taste for the 
society of those who are beneath you. I don’t see 
wdiere you get it from, certainly not from my 
family. But you are old enough now to correct 
these propensities and cultivate a taste for something 
a little more elevating.” 

“ Elevating ! ” thought Florence, recalling the story 
of the sewing-girl. A bitter smile curved her lips at 
the idea of being elevated by the society of those who 
were capable of the pitiful meanness of withholding 
from a helpless young girl her hard-earned dues. 

Mrs. Fairfax changed the subject. 

“I have had a most unsatisfactory afternoon. 
Mrs. Senator Allison was not at home, and Mrs. 
Langworthy was sick in bed, and the only one whom 
I succeeded in finding was that horridly homely Miss 
Ellis, and she kept me waiting a full hour, while she 
made a most elaborate toilet. It was elegant, though, 
the loveliest shade of mauve, soaltogether sweet that I 
sickened at once of my garnet ; and then, besides, this 
horrid rain must come up just as I was stepping from 
the door to the carriage, and I know the satin will 
spot and the curl will be out of my feathers. 0, well, 
this is a hard world ! ” 


238 


A Golden Inheritance. 


XXII. 

MAEK GREGORY. 

“ A good name is better to be chosen than great riches.” 

B UT to Mark Gregory, springing with buoyant 
steps through the gloomy, misty dusk, it w r as a 
very bright world. He had met the realization of a 
hope. 

Deep in his dreams there had lain folded, for many 
weeks, that sweetest of all faces which had so im- 
pressed him at the hospital. To tell the truth, he 
had found that for which he had been making per- 
sistent search since the night of the new year. 

The hope of finding the young heiress again and 
speaking with her face to face had grown very strong 
in him. Hot that he would have cared to admit the 
fact, O no, not by any means ; for not even upon his 
own consciousness had it fully dawned that his inter- 
est in her was so great. True, he was in the habit of 
strolling often in the direction of Judge Fairfax’s 
residence, and occasionally he had found himself in- 
voluntarily arrested by the sound of a low, sweet voice 
singing in the twilight, and once he had caught a 
brief vision of a lovely blonde head and a pair of 
bright eyes as they appeared for an instant in the gas 


Mark Gregory. 


239 


lighted window, and he had turned away with a sigh 
as the rich curtain dropped, shutting him out in the 
cold and dark alone. He was fully aware of all this, 
and also of the longing which increased daily until 
sometimes he had been almost emboldened by it to 
mount the granite steps of the stately edifice and call 
for Miss Fairfax. 

Mark Gregory was a character in his way. Indeed, 
his life -experience had been strengthening, one well 
calculated to bring out his metal. When he was only 
fourteen he had been summoned from school one 
day to find his father dying from an apoplectic fit, 
his mother well-nigh crazed with the agony of her 
grief in the calamity, and the beautiful home, out of 
which he gone so light-heartedly only three short 
hours before, turned into a desolate ruin by that 
terrible word, “ failure.” 

“ Be a man, Mark ; on you depends every thing. 
Keep the good old name of Gregory bright to the 
last,” were the father’s parting words to this boy as 
he drifted out into the great unknown. 

From that hour the grandeur of Mark Gregory’s 
character had sprung forth. In one day he took the 
long stride from boyhood to manhood. 

Enough had been saved from the wreck to afford a 
humble home and meager support for his mother and 
sisters, but the bright, intellectual boy gave up his 
ambitious dreams, turned his back resolutely upon the 
brilliant future which he had laid out for himself, 


240 A Golden Inheritance. 

and accepted the first thing which offered, by which 
he could earn an honest living and keep bright the 
good old name of Gregory. And he kept it bright, 
even though he was only a cash-boy. 

But Mark Gregory did not long remain a cash- 
boy. There were more honorable positions waiting 
for his young energies. At present he was cashier of 
a bank, filling his responsible position with the same 
clear-headed, prompt, reliable energy w T hich had char- 
acterized him when he was only a cash-boy. The 
church of which he w T as a member honored and es- 
teemed him as one of its shining lights. The com 
munity in which he moved held him in highest 
esteem. In fact, every-where he went, he kept the 
name of Gregory bright. 

The little home had been, several years before, 
exchanged for one scarcely more pretentious, but in a 
pleasanter location, with more room for pure air and 
sunshine. Tear by year there had been added a trifle 
here and a trifle there to its adornment and comfort, 
until to-night there was not a cheerier or cozier little 
home in all Burlington. 

The white-haired mother was growing old beauti- 
fully, and the little girls were rounding into graceful, 
sweet young womanhood. Blessed and protected as 
they were by this son and brother, they could not do 
otherwise. 

Three young ladies, instead of two, were awaiting in 
the ruddy fire-light Mark’s home-coming that night. 


Mark Gregory. 


241 


“ There, that’s his step ! Get behind the door, 
quick, Lottie, and give him a surprise ! ” said sixteen- 
year-old Madge, pushing the visitor out of sight, with 
a saucy sparkle in her black eyes, and springing to 
open the door for her brother. But there was some- 
thing unusual in his face to-night which caught the 
laughing eyes. 

“ Y,ou look as if you had heard good news,” she 
said. 

He smiled gravely. 

“ So do you, Madge. What’s happened ? ” 

There was a noiseless step behind him, and two 
soft hands were placed lightly over his eyes. 

“ Guess who it is,” said Madge. 

“ Lottie Gladstone, of course ; there is no other 
pair of hands in the world like hers.” 

He removed the hands from his eyes as he spoke, 
turned, and confronted the lady. 

She was tall and slight, with a sallow face lit by the 
palest of blue eyes, and topped by a frowzy mass of 
reddish hair. Lottie Gladstone’s only pretentions to 
beauty were her hands. Small and white they were, 
and so perfect withal that they might have been 
molded in wax. Still, in spite of her plainness, there 
was a sweet, sensible womanliness about the young 
lady which could not fail to please. Listening to 
the music of her voice and taking in the charm of 
her manner, one was apt to forget that she had red 

hair and pale blue eyes. 

16 


242 A Golden Inheritance. 

To Mark Gregory his cousin Lottie was the quin- 
tessence of gracious womanhood. She was like a 
song, he told his mother, to which one listened and 
was refreshed. But the merry lips were grave to- 
night. 

“Her music has found its undertone,” he ob- 
served, mentally, but he made no effort to dis- 
cover the source of it. A woman’s heart was too 
sacred a thing to be thus carelessly looked into. 
But after supper, when he had repaired to the 
library for a few moments’ reading, she came softly 
stealing after him. 

“ Cousin Mark,” she said, laying a photograph be 
fore him, “ did you ever meet the original of that \ ” 

Mark Gregory looked at it thoughtfully. Where 
had he seen it before, the round, girlish face, with the 
dark rings of hair curling over the open forehead, 
and those superb eyes smiling, yet with a shade of 
sadness in their brown depths. Somewhere, it was 
like a vague, shadowy dream, those beautiful eyes 
had shone upon him. Ah, indeed ! The recollec- 
tion came with a sudden flash. “ In the valley of the 
shadow,” he repeated, involuntarily. 

Miss Gladstone’s eyes opened wide. 

“ It is a singular story,” he said, and in a few words 
related the incident of He w-y ear’s night. 

“ This young lady is, then, evidently a friend of 
Miss Fairfax, an intimate friend, I would infer,” said 
his cousin, reflectively. “ Mark, this picture is the 


Mark Gregory. 


243 


property of Philip Fairfax, and Philip Fairfax has 
been spending the whole winter in Burlington.” 

“ Well, what does that argue \ ” 

“ I am sure I cannot tell,” she said, smiling a little 
sadly. “ I found this picture among some papers of 
his after a short visit which he paid us last fall. I 
wrote to him regarding it, and he replied, carelessly, 
that it was the picture of a pretty child which he had 
stolen from his cousin.” She paused a moment, 
looking thoughtfully into the fire. 

“ Mark ! ” 

‘‘Well?” 

“ The original of this picture is no child ! ” 

“No.” 

“ She is an intimate friend of Miss Fairfax’s, and 
probably spends much time with her, and Philip Fair- 
fax has been unaccountably detained at his uncle’s 
residence all winter.” 

“ Well ? ” 

“ Mark Gregory, you know what I mean.” 

“ Don’t be jealous or suspicious, Lottie. The green- 
eyed monster is never attractive or beautifying.” 

“ I do not think it is jealousy,” said Miss Gladstone, 
thoughtfully. “ I want to do the right thing, Mark, 
and you must help me. You know something of 
these people, and by observation you may be able to 
enlighten me.” 

“ What do you propose to do ? Surely you will 
not act the part of an impulsive child ? ” 


2 44 A Golden Inheritance. 

“ I shall do nothing impulsively. My disposition 
is deliberate. I love Philip Fairfax, and if he is true 
to me, I shall discharge my duty to him in all faith- 
fulness ; but if, on the other hand, he has fallen in 
love with this beautiful girl, which looks quite possi- 
ble, he must marry her.” * 

“ Do you mean to say that you will break that long- 
standing engagement, thwarting the hopes of your 
friends, and destroying your own happiness in this 
ruthless manner ? ” 

“ Certainly. If this stranger has won his heart, 
she has the best right to him. As for me, I shall 
live through it.” 

The brave smile about the homely mouth and the 
womanly glow in the pale eyes were so transforming 
and beautiful that Mark Gregory wondered how any 
one could call Lottie Gladstone plain. 

“ But, my dear cousin,” he began, “ are you not 
straining a point ? Gentlemen of Fairfax’s wealth 
and position cannot restrain the pleasure of flirting a 
little now and then. It is as natural to them as to 
breathe ; it is quite common for them to indulge in 
it ; they attach no importance to it.” 

“ Then they have no manliness of character. If 
Philip Fairfax is trifling, for his own amusement, 
with the heart of a young girl, whom he knows he is 
not free to marry, I want nothing more to do with 
him. Such conduct arouses in me a feeling of utter 
contempt. I esteem myself far too highly to be com- 


Mark Gregory. 


245 


mitted to tlie keeping of snch hands for life. If such 
is his character, he is not worthy of me.” 

“ It would create a different state of affairs if all 
young ladies agreed with you in that sentiment,” said 
Mark. “Most of them are too prone to wink .at 
these deviations from strict rectitude on the part of 
young men. Indeed, they have far more charity for 
our defects in every particular than we are willing to 
accord to them. I suppose it is because their dispo- 
sitions are more forgiving.” 

“It is because they are more unjust and weak, I 
think. Ho woman has any right to demand less of a 
man than she feels bound to accord to him. At any 
rate, I am unwilling to do so. You will help me, 
Mark?” 

Mark Gregory laid a strong clasp upon his cousin’s 
beautiful hand. 

“ To the utmost of my power,” he said. 


246 


A Golden Inheritance. 


XXIII. 

DISENCHANTED. 

“ Disenchantment ! Disillusion 1 
Must each noble aspiration 
Come at last to this conclusion, 

Jarring discord, wild confusion, 

Lassitude, renunciation ? " 

« M R. DUNBAR, will you please give me your 
attention for live minutes ? I wish to make 
an appeal to your common sense.” 

Mr. Dunbar laid aside liis paper with a groan ; he 
knew from experience that it would be some time 
before he would be allowed uninterrupted possession 
of it again. When Mrs. Dunbar began an appeal to 
his common sense her arguments were apt to be con- 
tinued indefinitely. He, therefore, folded his arms 
resignedly, and leaned back in his chair with the air 
of one prepared to endure. 

Mrs. Dunbar was something of a talker, a fine con- 
versationalist she considered herself, and certainly her 
argumentative ability was of no mean order. 

She held up her work a moment, critically, to be 
sure that she had not lost a stitch, then she began. 

“ Mr. Dunbar, I suppose yon are informed of the 
manner in which that most worthy young book- 


Disenchanted. 247 

keeper of yours is intending to spend the even- 
ing ? ” 

Mr. Dunbar looked at bis wife in some irritation. 

“ Marion, for pity’s sake, don’t be a busybody. 
What is it to you, or me either, how she spends her 
evenings as long as spends her days in my office ? ” 

“ Excuse me, Mr. Dunbar, it would be as well, per- 
haps, to exercise a little judgment. If we are to 
have no eye upon the young people in our employ, 
except during business hours, I fear we may run 
serious risks. It is especially required of a young 
girl that her life be circumspect, as well in her leisure 
hours as when employed.” 

“Well, what is Robin contemplating to-night? 
Nothing criminal, I hope.” 

“ I wish you would be less extravagant in your sug- 
gestions. She is going with young Fairfax to a ball 
at Lake Landerdell, five miles out of town.” 

“Well, I see nothing unusual in that. She is in 
the habit of attending balls, I believe.” 

“ She is too much in the habit. But this one is 
not a suitable affair for any young lady to patronize. 
From what I can gather, it is to be made up of a 
wild set of young people with whom Robin Holmes 
has no business to associate.” 

“ How do you know she is going ?” 

“ Mrs. Fairfax herself told me. She is very much 
annoyed that Philip should lower himself to such 
society.” 


248 


A Golden Inheritance. 


“ Has she not sufficient influence to prevent him 
from going ?” 

“ It appears not ; Mr. Dunbar, it is really too bad, 
the way that affair is running on.” 

“What affair?” 

“Why the flirtation between Bobin and Philip 
Fairfax.” 

“ What would you advise me to do about it ?” 
asked the gentleman, with a quiet smile. 

“ I know what I should do about it.” 

“ What?” 

“ I should send Eobin Holmes to her sister. It is 
what should have been done in the first place. The 
idea of a young, girl living alone in a city of this size, 
with no one to look after her but an old servant ! I 
have always told you, Mr. Dunbar, that you are very 
much to blame in the matter.” 

Mr. Dunbar looked thoughtfully out of the window. 

“ If you consider Bobin’ s course so seriously wrong, 
Marion, why do you not go to her with womanly 
advice and counsel, seeing she has no mother?” 

“ Me ! attempt to reason with that headstrong 
child ! I tried it once to my sorrow. Ho, Mr. Dun- 
bar, it is no affair of mine.” 

“ Then why not let it rest ? It is too late, I sup- 
pose, for me to interfere with her engagements, even 
if I had a right to do so, which I most assuredly have 
not. She will come through it all right, no doubt. 
God’s angels must have a peculiar charge over Annie 


Disenchanted. 


249 


Holmes’s children. I am sorry, though, that young 
Fairfax has gained such a hold over the girl.” 

“Well, Mr. Dunbar, if you persist in keeping 
Robin Holmes in your employ, you alone are respon- 
sible for her. That is all I have to say upon the 
subject.” 

Meantime Robin, arraying herself in the daintiest 
of white dresses, plentifully adorned with rose-pink 
ribbons and pale-blush roses, (Philip Fairfax’s gift, 
these last,) was strangely conscious of some unusual 
nervousness, amounting almost to a foreboding of 
something ill. Her cheeks were burning feverishly 
as she took up her flowers and went down stairs, 
where Philip Fairfax was waiting for her. He gave 
a little start of delight as the radiant vision burst 
upon him. 

“ I declare, Robin, you have outdone yourself 
to-night. You are the very rose of roses.” 

But for some reason this flattery fell upon unap- 
preciative ears to-night. 

“Let us go. What are we waiting for?” she 
said, almost irritably, wrapping her light shawl about 
her as she spoke. 

At this juncture Aunty Whipple appeared in the 
door-way, grim as fate. She did not even so much as 
glance at Robin, but advanced boldly upon Philip. 

“Young man,” she said, in a tone half entreating, 
half stern. “ Might I ask you to do me a favor at 
this time ? ” 


250 


A Golden Inheritance. 


“ Certainly, a thousand of them, if it is in my 
power,” he replied, with a grand flourish and a polite 
bow. 

“ Well, then, will you please go your way and leave 
that poor, half-sick girl at home to-night? Don’t 
you see she is in no condition to go out ? Her hands 
and head are burning hot, and her eyes feverish. I 
wouldn’t wonder a mite if she was coming down 
with a lit of sickness.” 

Philip turned a startled look upon Robin. She 
laughed harshly. 

“ What an old crooner you are, Aunty Whipple ! 
I never was better in my life. Come, let us go.” 

“She looks the picture of health; I cannot think 
she is sick,” said Philip, still keeping his eyes flxed 
upon the blooming face. 

The old nurse turned to Robin, entreatingly. 

“ Robin Holmes ! ye must gang your ain gait, but 
it makes my heart sick to see the way you’re goin’ 
on. Where you’ll bring up God only knows, but 
for your sweet mother’s sake I would have saved you 
if I could.” 

Robin turned fiercely upon her. 

“ Save me from what ? How like a lunatic you 
talk ! As if I were going to commit a crime. Mr. 
Fairfax, for pity’s sake let us go, before my hair 
turns gray with it all.” 

Aunty Whipple, looking after them as they drove 
away in the rosy twilight, sank into a chair, rocking 


Disenchanted. 


251 


back and forth and sobbing as she had not done 
since they laid Robin’s mother in her grave. 

For some reason Philip Fairfax did not find his 
young friend the most entertaining of companions 
to-night. Notwithstanding her brilliant appearance, 
she was grave and pre-occupied. After a few vain 
attempts to draw her out he gave it up and relapsed 
into a moody absorption equal to her own, and the 
drive was taken in utter silence. 

“ Once in the ball room she will find her spirits,” 
he thought. But he had miscalculated her. For 
once in her life even the dance had no power to in- 
terest Robin. The gay music, which usually set her 
pulses bounding at its first note, fell upon dull ears 
to-night. She went through the bewildering mazes 
faultlessly, it was true, but mechanically. The vivid 
bloom in her cheeks and the restless fire in her eyes 
rendered her so radiant that she was eagerly sought 
after, and thus hour after hour the weary feet kept 
pace with the music while the heavy heart ached and 
ached, relentlessly, unable at last, from sheer ex- 
haustion, to go through another set. She declined 
every invitation with such decision that she was 
finally left to herself. 

Withdrawing to a quiet corner, she watched the 
dancers, until the whole room seemed to whirl before 
her tired eyes. Why had she come ? she asked her- 
self, bitterly. She felt strangely out of place in such 
a throng as this. Suppose her dead mother was 


252 


A Golden Inheritance. 


looking down with those pure eyes of hers ! She 
put the thought away impatiently. Why had she 
come, after all? Was it to please Philip Fairfax? 
What was it about stolen honey? Somehow every 
thing was in a jumble. Little darts of pain kept 
shooting through her temples like needles. 

“ If we could only go home { ” she exclaimed. Ah, 
there was Philip at last. He sauntered up to her 
with a sort of indifference in his manner which was 
not pleasing to Pobin. 

“ Are you ready to go ? ” she asked, eagerly. 

“ Go, already ! ” He drew out his watch. “ Why, 
Kobin, it is only one o’clock. I shall not think of 
going in two hours yet. Will you dance the next 
set with me ? ” 

“ Ho,” said Kobin, shortly. 

“ Ta, la, la, then, I must find some one who will,” 
and he drifted away again. 

The long hours dragged by on leaden wheels. 
Kobin thought they would never go. O the ceaseless 
music and the swaying feet ! would they never 
tire ? Every nerve in her aching head was quivering. 
“ I must get away from it, somewhere,” she said, 
at length, rising with an undefined impulse to escape 
from the dizzy glare. But at that moment Philip 
Fairfax appeared again. His face was deeply flushed 
and his manner so strange that she drew back, 
frightened at, she knew not what. 

“Keady to go, Kobin? Well get your things on 


Disenchanted. 


253 


and we will be off in short meter,” he said, brusquely, 
and Robin needed no second bidding. 

They were out of the hotel at last and whirling 
along the smooth road at a flying pace. 

“ Come, Robin, trill out a song, can’t you ? ” said 
her companion, turning upon her with a boisterous 
laugh. 

Robin’s lips curled. 

“I am not in the habit of singing on the public, 
highway,” she snapped. 

“ No, but you could waive propriety for this once. 
We’ve been on a grand spree, you know, and it’s 
always well to wind up on something lively.” 

Robin drew back in dismay. What did it mean, 
this rude behavior, so unlike Philip Fairfax? She 
bent suddenly forward, trying to read his face in 
the darkness, and as she did so she caught the sick- 
ening fumes of his breath. 

“ O God, help me, he has been drinking ! ” she 
almost spoke the words aloud in her terrible fear. 

All her life Robin had stood in mortal terror of 
an intoxicated person. Dunkenness was the one sin 
upon which she could not look with the least possi- 
ble degree of allowance. Therefore the thought of 
being forced to ride all this distance alone with a 
drunken man was intolerable. 

“ I cannot do it,” she cried aloud. 

“ Can’t do what, sis ? In a hurry to get home, eh ? 
Well, here we go.” 


254 


A Golden Inheritance. 


He gave the horse a sharp cut with the whip as he 
spoke, which caused the spirited animal to rear and 
plunge suddenly forward. A new fear took posses- 
sion of Robin at the sight. 

“ Stop the horse and let me get out, please ! ” she 
exclaimed, catching nervously at the lines. 

“ Get out ? Hot much, Robalinda. Couldn’t do 
without you. Whatever is the matter with this 
horse ? ” 

“ Give me the lines,” said Robin, coaxingly. “ I 
want to drive.” 

“ Ho, you don’t. Think I can’t drive ? See here.” 

He struck the horse another fierce blow, and it 
broke into a furious run. 

“ Philip Fairfax, give me those lines,” said Robin, 
in a tone of command. 

But he had no idea of relinquishing them. 

“ See here, Miss Miranda, seems to me you’re get- 
ting pretty saucy. Wanting to drive, as if I didn’t 
know what I was about.” 

And again he lashed the infuriated animal merci- 
lessly. They were descending a hill at a break-neck 
speed. Robin closed her eyes in terror. 

u G God, take care of us ! ” she cried, involuntari- 
ly, repeating Floy’s simple formula, and just as the 
words escaped her she felt the carriage stop. She 
opened her eyes to see a man holding the bridle with 
one hand and patting the horse, soothingly, with the 
other. The sight enraged her companion. 


Disenchanted. 


255 


“ Get out of my way, you brute ! ” lie cried, rais- 
ing his whip ; but, quick as thought, Robin wrested 
it from his uncertain grasp and sprang with it to the 
ground. 

“ I can never thank you enough,” she said, ap- 
proaching the stranger, in the rush of her gratitude. 
“ You have saved our lives. But wdiat are we to do ? 
My friend is in no condition to drive home.” 

“ So I perceive. Where is your home ?” 

“ Burlington. Are we far from there ? ” 

“ Only two miles. Get in. I will drive you 
home.” 

“ O, thank you, sir ! But is it not asking too 
much % ” 

“ Hot at all. I was going directly there. I have 
been spending the night with a sick friend, and am 
on my way home.” 

“ Is it, then, so near morning ? ” 

“It is four o’clock. It will soon be light. You 
would better get in. We must get into town before 
daylight if possible.” 

His tones were kind and respectful. 

“ But are you not afraid that we shall have trouble 
with him ? ” asked Robin, doubtfully, in a low voice, 
pointing to Fairfax, wdio still lounged stupidly in the 
carriage seat, singing in a maudlin way. 

“We have not much to fear in that quarter. lie 
is too far gone to trouble us, I think.” 

He assisted Robin into the carriage, and springing 


256 


A Golden Inherit ance. 


in after her, started the still nettled horse with a 
quiet word. The intoxicated man made some resist 
ance at first, but soon sank into a stupor, his head 
falling heavily forward upon his breast. 

“ May I ask to whom I am indebted for this great 
kindness ? ” ventured Robin, timidly, as they w T ere 
nearing the city. 

The stranger turned his face toward her with a 
smile. 

The rosy hue of dawn was stealing over the sky, 
and in the faint light he had discerned that the 
flushed and bloated features of the man at his side 
belonged to none other than Philip Fairfax. It was, 
therefore, no difficult task to recognize the brown- 
eyed girl who was his unfortunate companion. 

“It is possible that you may remember me,” he 
said. “ I have a vivid recollection of your singing 
in the hospital on New-year’s night.” 

“ Mr. Gregory ! ” exclaimed Robin, joyfully. 
“ Then I have found a friend, indeed ! ” 

“Which finding, may you never have cause to 
regret,” he said, fervently. “ I shall consider it an 
honor to be ranked among your friends, Miss — ” 

“ Holmes. Robin Holmes.” 

Mark Gregory smiled, gravely. He had discovered 
the name of Lottie’s heroine at last, but in what a 
way! 


“Foe Lottie’s Sake.” 


257 


XXIV. 


« FOR LOTTIE’S SAKE ” 

“ 0, might I be a ray, 

Kindled by the straight way, 

How should my night bright blossom into day ? ” 

LIE birds were beginning to twitter their gay 



JL good-mornings when the carriage drove up at 
Robin’s door. 

“ Mr. Gregory, I can rely upon you to keep this 
disgraceful affair a secret,” said Robin, hesitatingly, 
as she got out. 

“When you have learned to know me better, I 
hope you will have stronger faith in me,” he replied, 
with a little thrill of pain in his voice. 

“ Excuse me ; I have the strongest faith in you 
now. It could not be otherwise. Do you think you 
can get Mr. Fairfax into his uncle’s house without 
disturbing the family? Perhaps it would be better 
to take him to a hotel.” 

“ I think I can rouse him sufficiently to get him 
safely lodged in his own room. You can depend on 
me, Miss Holmes, to spare you all possible exposure 
and annoyance.” 

Robin could not reply. This man’s kindness 
touched her beyond power of expression, in her tired- 


17 


258 


A Golden Inheritance. 


out and helpless condition. Her eyes welled over 
with tears as she bowed her thanks and turned hastily 
away. 

The door of the small house closed noiselessly be- 
hind her, and with a sigh Mark Gregory drove away 
again with his miserable charge. 

At the gate of Judge Fairfax’s residence he dis- 
mounted, tied the horse, and made a vain attempt to 
rouse his companion. 

“ Fairfax, you really must get out,” he said, sliak 
ing him roughly. 

“ Le’ me ’lone; get out yourself,” growled Philip, 
rolling stupidly over upon the seat. 

Mark Gregory looked about him in dismay. The 
curtains of the great house were drawn close. There 
was no stir anywhere. Surely the situation was per- 
plexing. He could not get the unfortunate young 
man into the house unaided, and to take him to a 
hotel in his present condition would involve the 
necessity of a public scandal which must be of the 
greatest injury as well as annoyance to both Bobin 
Holmes and this man, his cousin’s betrothed husband. 

There was, therefore, but one course to pursue : he 
1 decided at last to ring the bell and arouse the family. 
Better private disgrace than public ; and, at all events, 
he must get Philip Fairfax out of sight before the 
stir in the streets began. 

He was half way up the broad, stone steps, when 
one of the upper windows was thrown open and 


“ For Lottie’s Sake.” 


259 


Floy’s lovely blonde bead stood revealed in the rosy 
light of the dawn. 

“ Who is she that looketh forth as the morning, 
fair as the moon, clear as the sun, and terrible as an 
army with banners ? ” * 

The words spoke themselves unconsciously to the 
young man’s comprehension as he gazed at her spell- 
bound. Terrible as an army, indeed, was the sight of 
this pure young girl, when he remembered the errand 
which had brought him to her home in the sweet 
dawn of this May morning. 

For a moment he hesitated, deliberating w r hat 
course to pursue ; then in sheer desperation he stepped 
in front of her window and motioned her to come 
down. In another instant the heavy door swung on 
its hinges, and Florence stood on the sill with wide- 
open eyes. 

“ What is it ? ” she asked, looking from him to the 
carriage. 

“ I have brought your cousin home, Miss Fairfax. 
Could you call a servant to help me get him to his 
room ? ” 

“ Philip ! What is the matter wdth him, is he 
hurt \ ” she asked, sharply. 

“No, not hurt; -it is nothing serious,” he stam- 
mered, confusedly, interposing himself between her 
eyes and the recumbent form of her cousin. “ If 
you will please call a servant ; he will be all right 
after lie has slept.” 


260 


A Golden Inheritance. 


“But, Mr. Gregory, there is certainly something 
wrong. You must tell me. Where did you find 
him ? ” 

“I met him coming home from somewhere, I’m 
sure I don’t know where. It would be best to get 
him into the house as soon as possible.” 

“ Isn’t he able to walk ? ” 

“ He does not seem to be able to do so. Please 
call some one to help me, Miss Fairfax, and then you 
would better go back to your room.” 

She looked at him a moment, doubtfully, then 
hastened away to obey him. In a few moments, 
which seemed like hours, she returned, followed by 
an old man, who was rubbing his eyes sleepily. 

“ This is old Jim, Mr. Gregory ; he has been in 
the family for years. You can trust him with any 
thing.” 

“ Thanks, Miss Fairfax ; you have done admirably. 
How you would better retire. We will manage every 
thing, and you will find your cousin all right by 
noon, I think.” 

But Florence did not move from the spot. Old 
Jim took a step forward and looked curiously into 
Philip’s red, disfigured face. 

“ O ! ” he whistled, comprehensively, with a pecul- 
iar smile. 

“ How, Mr. Philip, sir, sposen ye jest git out and 
come in awhile,” he said, insinuatingly, trying to 
raise the young man into a sitting posture. 


“ For Lottie’s Sake.” 


261 


Philip opened his bleared eyes and gave vent to a 
coarse oath, which came with startling distinctness to 
the ear of his cousin as she stood riveted to the door- 
step. His strange appearance and thick, unnatural 
utterance revealed the secret to her as in a flash. 
hTo person can live in a city and not be familiar, to 
some extent, with the forms of drunkenness, and 
even this young girl, sheltered as she had been all 
her life from scenes of vice and misery and wretch- 
edness, had seen enough of the effects of* strong drink 
to enable her to recognize it when presented in a 
form so patent as this. 

Mark Gregory, turning for an instant, caught a 
glimpse of the white, horror-struck face in the door- 
way, and went back to her. 

“ Miss Fairfax,” he said, authoritatively, leading 
her inside and closing the door, “ this is no scene for 
you. You must go up stairs.” 

She obeyed, mechanically. 

“ Philip drunk ! ” 

The words buzzed through her brain with a jarring 
sound. King Philip, whom from her earliest child- 
hood she had regarded as the personification of every 
manly virtue, brought home in the precise condition 
of those low, vile creatures whom she had seen 
picked up out of the gutter and hurried away to the 
station house. What right had he thus to disgrace the 
family ? A Fairfax drunk ! Her cheeks burned red at 
the thought. Behold how was the mighty fallen ! 


262 


A Golden Inheritance. 


She closed her eyes and ears, shudderingly, as she 
heard them bringing him up the stairs with great 
effort. She was thankful, even at that moment, that 
the rooms occupied by her father and mother were 
on the other side of the house, too far removed to 
endanger their being disturbed by the unusual noise. 
When all was quiet again Florence stole softly down 
stairs, just in time to arrest Mark Gregory as he was 
going out of the gate. 

“ Mr. Gregory, stop a moment, please. Will you 
tell me something more about this ? Where did you 
find my cousin, and who was wfith him ? ” 

Mark Gregory hesitated. IIow soon it was re- 
quired of him to break his promise to Robin. 

“ I met him two miles out of towm. I must ask 
you to excuse me from answering any more ques- 
tions. Ho one was hurt in the least, and I am in 
hopes that the affair wdll pass off without much com- 
ment. Fortune has favored us thus far.” 

u Thanks to your great kindness and gentlemanly 
behavior, Mr. Gregory. If any thing had happened 
to Robin,” she added, impressively, “ I should never 
have forgiven Philip. Indeed, I shall find it hard to 
do so as it is.” 

“ I think you will find it very easy if you look at 
it in the right light.” 

“ In what light would you have me look at it ? ” 
she asked, smiling. 

“ In the light of another opportunity.” 


“ For Lottie’s Sake.” 


263 


“ I can see no possible opportunity in it. He has 
disgraced the Fairfax name and honor. I shall never 
speak my own name again with the same degree of 
respect,” said Florence, bitterly. 

“Well, that is sad, indeed ; but here is your very 
opportunity. When he comes to his senses again he 
will have great need of help. I have been told that 
among all the ills which the flesh is heir to, there is 
no feeling of wretchedness greater than that which 
one experiences when recovering from the effects of 
intoxicating drink. Added to the misery of body 
there is an awful torture of mind ; a sense of dis- 
grace and self-loathing, which to a person of refine- 
ment must be unendurable, takes possession of him, 
to the exclusion of every other emotion. When 
your cousin recovers himself he will have all this 
to undergo. If you meet him with averted looks 
and chilling manner you will increase his sufferings 
tenfold.” 

“ It ought to be increased tenfold,” said Florence, 
impetuously. “ A man who can thus degrade him- 
self is deserving of the utmost scorn and contempt 
from every one.” 

“ Excuse me, Miss Fairfax, did you see his temp- 
tation ? ” 

“ There should be no temptation in these things 
for a man of his birth and advantages.” 

“ Ah, but there is. It is a deplorable fact, that 
men of his stamp are often the very ones who fall 


204 


A Golden Inheritance. 


easiest victims to this terrible habit. You must save 
him, if possible. Your influence, if rightly directed, 
will have a good effect on him.” 

“Would you have me pass over an affair of this 
kind lightly, as if it were of no account, thereby 
encouraging him to repeat it at his pleasure ? ” 

“Hot by any means. Let him understand that 
you consider his conduct contemptible beyond ex- 
pression, but not unpardonable. Meet him with 
womanly sympathy, if you can, not swerving an inch 
from the severity of your displeasure, but, at the 
same time, encouraging him, to the utmost of your 
power, to be a man again.” 

“ It is a difficult thing to do,” said Florence, doubt- 
fully, “it seems impossible not to err in either 
direction.” 

“ I know it. There is nothing more difficult than 
to combine justice and mercy. Humanity is incapa- 
ble of perfectly effecting it, I think. Still we can 
do our best.” 

“Yes,” said Florence, thoughtfully. “Mr. Greg- 
ory,” she added, “ you deserve more thanks for the 
part which you have taken in this affair than I or 
any one else can express. His own brother could 
not have been kinder.” 

“ I am not altogether disinterested,” said the gen- 
tleman, smilingly. 

“ You are not ! What can Philip Fairfax possibly 
be to you ? ” 


Foe Lottie’s Sake. 


265 


“To me, nothing, except a fallen brother ; to my 
cousin Lottie, every thing.” 

“ Your cousin ! Is Lottie Gladstone your cousin % ” 

u She is, and a very dear one. You should know 
her, Miss Fairfax.” 

“ I hope to some time ; and, Mr. Gregory, I am 
very glad to know this,” she added, smiling, and 
holding out her hand to him ; “ it is a bond of 
friendship between us.” 

He clasped the small hand delightedly for an 
instant, leaned forward as if to speak, and suddenly 
recollecting himself, drew hastily back. 

“ I leave my cousin’s friend in your hands,” he 
said, eagerly. “ Save him, if you can, for Lottie’s 
sake.” 

He held the slight fingers close for an instant, 
then raised his hat, and turned hurriedly away. 

Florence wandered off over the dewy lawn with 
cheeks like blush roses. 


260 


A Golden Inheritance. 


XXY. 

THE DAEK WING. 

« Angel of death ! yet, yet, awhile delay ! 

Too sad it is to part 
This in my spring of heart, 

With all the light and laughter of the day.” 

A IJXTY WHIPPLE waited in vain for Robin’s 
appearance that morning. Eiglit o’clock struck, 
nine, and then the good woman became seriously 
alarmed. 

“ She could never be oversleepin’ berself at this 
rate,” she muttered, as sbe ascended tlie stairs and 
rapped at Robin’s door. Not receiving any reply, 
sbe pushed it gently open and went in. Robin was 
lying with her face to the wall, her cheeks deeply 
crimsoned, and her breathing heavy. Aunty Whip- 
ple laid her hand gently upon her forehead, but light 
as the touch was it aroused her. She opened a pair 
of heavy, startled eyes. 

“ What is it % ” she asked, looking at the old nurse, 
with a bewildered stare. “ O ! ” a sudden recollec- 
tion of the night crowding into her brain. “ I have 
overslept. I must get up.” She made an effort to 
rise from her pillow, but sank back, instantly, putting 
her hand to her head. 


The Dark Wing. 


267 


“There’s something wrong,” she said, wonder- 
ingly. “ What is it, Aunty Whipple ? I cannot sit 
up.” 

“Well, I don’t know as it’s necessary that you 
should. Jest stay in bed awhile, you’ll be all right 
after you’ve rested out. This dancing all night is 
enough to kill a horse.” 

“ O, but I must get up,” said Eobin, rousing her- 
self again. “ What will Mr. Dunbar say ? ” 

“If he was here he’d say, ‘Eobin Holmes, stay 
where you are.’ Ho use frettin’ ’bout Mr. Dunbar, 
he’s all right. You’d ought to thought o’ this last 
night. I could ’a told you what to expect just as 
well then as now, but what good would it ha’ done ? 
You always was a heedless creetur. You’ll learn, 
may be, after a while, that you can’t impose on human 
natur’. She’s a hard mistress, natur’ is. If you go 
to slightin’ and tramplin’ on her laws, she’ll let you 
go, easy for a while, but all at once she’ll turn on you 
like a tiger. I tell you, Eobin Holmes, it don’t pay, 
and you’ll find it out soon enough, to your sorrow.” 

“ O do be still ! ” said Eobin, fretfully turning un- 
easily upon her pillow. 

“Well, they do say, taint best to strike a man 
when he’s down,” said Aunty Whipple, with a grim 
smile, as she straightened out the bed and shook up 
the pillows. “How you jest lay still where you be, 
and I’ll send Mr. Dunbar word that you’re sick and 
can’t come.” 


268 


A Golden Inheritance. 


Eobin closed her eyes wearily ; she cared but little 
about Mr. Dunbar or any one else then. 

Aunty Whipple’s face, as she bustled about the 
room in her active, noiseless way, casting now and 
then a furtive glance at her young charge, grew 
serious. She shook her hand dubiously on the way 
down stairs. 

“ I’ll see it on a while, and if she aint better by 
night I’ll have Dr. Hunt’s opinion,” she said 'to 
herself, with a decided nod. But Eobin did not get 
better. At noon the faithful watcher, tiptoeing 
softly up to her room, found her tossing, restlessly, 
and muttering of something, in an unknown tongue. 
Thoroughly alarmed, now, she dispatched a messen- 
ger at once for the doctor. It was late in the after- 
noon, however, before he arrived. His face settled 
into its gravest professional expression as his eyes fell 
upon the patient. 

“ How long has she been delirious ? ” he asked. 

“ Delirious ! ” exclaimed Aunty Whipple, startled 
at the dread word. “ Is it really so bad as that ? I 
thought she was only a little flighty. She’s been 
rambling on in that way since noon.” 

The doctor examined the sick girl critically. 

“ It threatens to be a serious case of brain fever,” 
he said, rising at length from the bedside. “ It 
would be well, I think, to send for her sister, and 
I would advise that her hair be shingled close to her 
head.” 


The Dark Wing. 


269 


“Dr. Hunt! You can’t never mean tliat that 
beautiful mass of hair must be sacrificed ! I couldn’t 
think of puttin’ scissors into it.” 

“ I regard it as a case of absolute necessity,” said the 
doctor, sternly, “ I tell you distinctly that it is going 
to be a severe case, and we must not hesitate to sacri- 
fice any thing which will in the least manner retard 
recovery. Indeed, it will require the utmost of our 
skill and nursing to pull her through at all, I fear.” 

The faithful old heart gave a great throb of pain. 
Must she, then, see it drift out in darkness, this 
bright young life around which her affections cling 
so tenaciously ? She lifted up a tress of the bright 
hair in her fingers, dropped it, and turned away, 
sobbing. 

“I can’t do it, doctor. I’m a poor, foolish old 
woman, may be, but I can’t rob the child of her 
beauty.” 

“Bring me the scissors, then,” said the doctor, 
authoritatively. She obeyed, and in a few moments 
poor Robin was shorn of her glory. 

“ It seems like wickedness,” said Aunty Whipple, 
gazing ruefully at the long, rich locks as they lay in 
a shining mass upon the bed-spread. 

“ It would be greater wfickedness to sacrifice a 
fresh young life to such trash as that,” said the doctor, 
grimly. 

Aunty Whipple gathered up the hair in silence, 
dropping salt tears upon the brown wealth as she 


270 A Golden Inheritance. 

laid it carefully away. It might be all she would 
have of Robin soon. 

“ I will be in again early in the morning,” said 
the doctor, as, having given minute directions regard- 
ing the medicine, he arose to go. u From the effects 
of that powder she may be comparatively quiet 
during the night, but I would advise that you have 
some other person in the house, and should her 
symptoms grow in the slightest degree worse, send 
for me at once.” 

Robin was very sick. Moment by moment, hour 
by hour, as it dragged so heavily by, rendered the 
fact more apparent, and took more of hope out of 
the hearts of the anxious watchers. 

■ On the third day after the ball the bell handle was 
muffled, aftd friends of the sick girl, passing on the 
street outside, involuntarily hushed their footsteps as 
they glanced pityingly toward the darkened window, 
where she lay, burning to death with her terrible 
fever. 

As for Robin herself, she was conscious of nothing 
save a dull sense of scorching languor. In her de- 
lirium she muttered and raved incessantly of Philip 
Fairfax and the fearful drive, calling out to him, in 
tones of the wildest entreaty, to let her get out of the 
carnage or take the lines herself. Occasionally, in 
her quieter moments, she spoke the name of Mr. 
Gregory, but usually it was of Philip Fairfax that 
she raved night and day, until Aunty Whipple was 


The Dark Wing. 


271 


fain to lay lier hand upon the fuming lips that she 
might keep the sound of that hated name out of her 
own ears. 

And thus the days went by. Florence took up her 
station at the bedside of her sick friend, watching 
her with untiring interest. Mrs. Fairfax called twice 
a day in her carriage to see if there were any thing 
she could do. Mrs. Dunbar forgot what a young 
reprobate this girl had been, and now, that she lay at 
death’s door, remembered only that she was the child 
of her dearest friend, and hung over her with such 
motherly tenderness and solicitude in her face that 
her husband, stepping to the door of the sick-room 
one night, stood a moment looking at her and won- 
dering if the years had rolled back in their flight and 
brought him again the gentle, loving wife of his 
youth. As for little Mrs. Hunt, she resigned the 
reins of her own household into the hands of her 
competent servant, and took up her abode, perma- 
nently, in the stricken home. 

On the evening of the sixth day Dr. Hunt took 
his finger from the bounding pulse and turned away 
with that ominous shake of the head which Aunty 
Whipple, having learned to know so well, had come 
to dread like the sound of the death-knell. 

Robin must die, then ! Bright, beautiful, bloom- 
ing, winsome, loving, tormenting Robin ! Why, the 
careless child, with all her wrong and weakness and 
willfulness, had grown into the old servant’s very life. 


272 


A Golden Inhekitance. 


The tearing asunder of this tie would snap every 
tender chord in her being. She shed no fbar as she 
stood at the bedside, gazing solemnly down at the 
wreck that disease had wrought, but the true old 
heart was weeping drops of blood. 

“ I think the fever will leave her to-night,” said 
the doctor, slowly. “.She will, therefore, demand the 
most intense watching. I have scarcely the shadow 
of a hope ; still there is life yet, and while the fee- 
blest germ of it exists we need not wholly despair. 
If, when the disease turns — or no, I will stay to-night 
and watch the case myself — there must not be the 
least straw of a chance thrown away. I wish every 
one in the room to go out. I can do all that is neces- 
sary now. I must not be disturbed. If any one 
calls for me, direct them to Dr. Severn.” 

It was a hushed and frightened group, that which 
gathered inside the door of that little room. 

“ O, Robin, Robin ! ” moaned Florence, burying 
her face in her hands. 

Mrs. Hunt stroked the fair hair caressingly. 

“Rest assured that God will save her if he has a 
work for her to do,” she said, gently; “if not, he will 
take her to her mother.” 

Aunty Whipple looked up with dry, pained eyes. 

“Ho, Mrs. Hunt,” she said, sternly, “God wont 
take the poor child to her mother.” 

Florence raised her head to flash an indignant glare 
at her. 


The Hake: Wing. 273 

“Why, Aunty Whipple!” she burst out, vehe- 
mently. 

“It’s a terrible truth, child. Much as we loved 
Robin — and no one on earth more than I ; God 
knows I would ’a died for her — she wasn’t an heir to 
an incorruptible crown. The poor child never made 
her peace with God, and he’s made no promises to 
them that don’t give him their hearts.” 

“I think it would be as well for us not to judge,” 
said ]®rs, Hunt, quietly. “ It is not required of us to 
decide the destiny of precious, immortal souls. We 
have not seen poor Robin’s inner life, but there is a 
grander eye than ours that has. There is one thing, 
however, which we can do. We can spend an hour 
in earnest, beseeching prayer ; and if two or three of 
us agree to ask any thing in His name he has promised 
to be with us and bless us.” 

At the same moment that these three were bending 
in strong faith before the mercy-seat, Evert Russel, 
pacing the floor of his room with great agitation, and 
trembling in apprehension that life’s bitterest storm 
of sorrow was about to burst upon him, felt himself 
powerfully moved to fall upon his knees and pour out 
his whole heart in supplication for the life of Robin 
Holmes. In view of these facts, therefore, it was 
not strange that Hr. Hunt, keeping tireless vigilance 
over the still pale features of his patient, out of which 
the fine flush had faded utterly, suddenly beheld, as 

he almost thought in a dream, the great brown eyes 
18 


274 


A Golden Inheritance. 


unclose clear and calm with the light of reason. He 
bent forward, keeping, with great effort, the tremble 
of joy out of his voice, as he said, 

“Well, Eobin?” 

“ Dr. Hunt, what is the matter ? Why are you 
here ? ” He did not reply, but held a spoonful of 
something to her lips. She swallowed it, obediently, 
still gazing at him with the same bewildered look, 
•her brain evidently striving to gather some past 
event. 

“O! O ! ” she cried, suddenly, but the doctor’s 
fingers was laid authoritatively upon her lips. 

“Ho O-oing just now, Eobin, you are to go to 
sleep,” he said, and Eobin, too faint and exhausted to 
think, sank into a deep, refreshing sleep. 

And Dr. Hunt knew that God had still a pur- 
pose for the life of Eobin Holmes. 


Cobwebs. 


275 


XXVI. 


COBWEBS. 


“ Wisdom is a pearl with most success, 

Sought in still water and beneath clear skies.” 


HERE, nurse, that will do, don’t fuss over him 



X any longer, he’s just as sweet as he can be ! ” 
and Mrs. Ralph Hunt caught her baby boy from the 
nurse’s arms and tossed him high in the air. 

“ Sweet as he could be,” indeed he was. Xothing 
could exceed the loveliness of the dainty, dimpled, 
rosy baby face. The fair little head was “ sunning 
over” with yellow curls, and the smiling lips dis- 
closed two pearls of teeth, while a pair of big laugh- 
ing brown eyes fairly danced with glee. 

The delighted mother held him aloft, gazing at 
him with loving eyes. Ralph Hunt, entering at 
that moment, thought he had never seen a fairer 
picture than that one in the bay-window, set as it was, 
in the midst of trailing vines and blossoms, with the 
sunshine falling in golden tenderness over mother 
and child, bringing out the innocent laughing beauty 
of one, and the sweet motherhood of the other. 

“ God has blessed me,” thought Ralph Hunt. 

“ See here, Ralph,” said Lulu, catching a glimpse 
of her husband as he stood thoughtfully in the door- 


276 


A Golden Inheritance. 


way, “ do you know wliom this precious baby looks 
like ? I never thought of it before, but he is the 
very picture of Eobin. Did the resemblance ever 
strike you ? ” 

u It strikes me whenever I look at him ; but, speak- 
ing of Eobin, isn’t it a long time since we have heard 
from the child ? ” 

“ Yes, a month fully. She is growing very neg- 
ligent about writing of late. It seems such a pity 
that she cannot reconcile herself to the idea of liv- 
ing with us, but I suppose she never will. By the 
way, Ealph, isn’t it almost time to make arrange- 
ments for the summer ? If we go East, we can take 
Eobin with us for a month at least. She must need 
a change by this time.” 

“ That is just what I came in to talk about. I have 
thought of the sea-shore as the best place to bring 
back your roses ; as for this young gentleman, I sup- 
pose he is not yet particular. If you prefer the 
mountains, however — ” 

“ No, no, don’t ever speak of such a thing,” inter- 
rupted his wife, laughing. “ I have lived in view of 
mountains all my life, but I have never looked upon 
the sea, and I desire it above all tilings.” 

“ A cottage at Newport, then, for July and August, 
will be the proper thing. I can imagine nothing 
more delightful. Other sea-side resorts are crowded 
with fashionable people, but Newport, La belle New- 
port, is the place to enjoy nature in its sublimity. 


Cobwebs. 


277 


The class of people * who frequent that desirable 
spot, and take it, belong to a higher order of intel- 
lect than the giddy throngs which swarm in places 
less aristocratic. At Newport one can listen to the 
music of the sea waves and drink in the glory of 
sky and ocean, uninterrupted by the click of fash- 
ionable feet and unannoyed by the gaze of fashion- 
able eyes.” 

“Why, Ralph, are you so averse to fashionable 
life as that ? Indeed, I always considered you rather 
partial to it.” 

“It is well enough in its place, but when I go 
abroad for pure enjoyment, deliver me from being 
entangled in cobwebs and gewgaws. I want to be 
free to study nature and nature’s God.” 

Lulu looked thoughtfully at the golden head of 
her baby as the sunshine caressed it. 

“Ralph,” she said, suddenly, “it’s a cobwebby world, 
after all, cobwebs and dust over every thing. What 
a pity that we couldn’t sweep the universe clean of 
them at once, and enjoy God’s good things unhin- 
dered by these flimsy obstructions ! ” 

“Well, we can, I think. Faith and love would 
make a good broom and dust-brush.” 

“Yes, but they require such constant use. Once 
sweeping will not suffice. Why, these things gather 
thick even over my blessed life. A dozen times a 
day I have to ply the broom and dust-brush. For 
instance, I get up in the morning, draw my curtains, 


278 


A Golden Inheeitance. 


and look out into tlie dewy dawn, with a heart over- 
flowing with gratitude and love, and bowing down I 
thank God for his wonderful loving-kindness to me, 
and promise, with his help, to make the day a bless- 
ing to myself and every one about me. There are no 
cobwebs over any thing then. The whole world is 
clean and sparkling. In the most beautiful state of 
mind I descend the stairs singing as I go. In the 
kitchen I find Bridget bending over the range with a 
red, cross face. 

“‘This wood wont burn, ma’am,’ she growls. ‘My 
heart’s broke with it, intirely. You must either git 
some new kindling-wood or make your own fire, for 
I can’t nor wont be bothered ! ’ 

“ Instantly, over my clean world gathers a great 
mesh of cobweb. 

“ ‘ Bridget ! ’ I exclaim, losing sight, in my haste, 
of the fact that green wood has been known to try 
even my patience, ‘ you are forgetting yourself. -The 
fault is all in your management.’ 

“By this time that blessed baby sets up a howl, and 
I must leave the arrangement of my breakfast table, 
about which I am so fastidious, to the careless hands 
of little Mat, who, in spite of all my commands and 
entreaties, will continue to put the knives on the left 
and the forks on the right side, get the dishes askew, 
and forget the napkins entirely. At breakfast we 
are treated to burnt steak and muddy coffee, while 
Bridget flounces in and out, her face like a thunder- 


Cobwebs. 


279 


cloud, slamming tlie doors unmercifully as she goes. 
By this time I can see nothing over all the world but 
cobwebs and dust.” 

“Time to apply the broom and dust-brush,” laughed 
Ralph, snapping his fingers at the baby. 

“ So I think, and I repair to the nursery forthwith, 
hugging my rosy comforter to my heart, and, after 
fussing about awhile and singing him to sleep, I suc- 
ceed in singing my own soul into a restful state, 
which lasts for several moments. I then decide that 
a walk in the fresh morning air would be on the 
whole beneficial, both to mind and body, and begin 
preparations thereto. I am just tying the string of 
my bonnet under my chin, and thinking how very 
becoming that soft shade of violet is to my blonde 
hair and complexion, when Mat pops her tangled head 
in the door with the information that Mrs. Boyce is 
in the parlor. Now if there is a person in this city 
who is calculated to draw cobwebs over my soul, it is 
Mrs. Boyce. She is one of those women whose sole 
mission in life seems to be to make people uncomfort- 
able. Resolved, however, to shoulder my cross un- 
complainingly, T remove my hat, and descend the 
stairs with a smile of forced suavity. Upon my en- 
trance Mrs. Boyce rises majestically, holds out an 
exquisitely kidded hand, bows stiffly, and remarks, 
in a sepulchral tone, that I am not looking at all 
well. I hasten to inform her that 1 have. never been 
better in my life. Ah, indeed ! She judged by my 


280 


A Golden Inheritance. 


appearance that I was in delicate health. She had a 
cousin of the same sallow complexion and hollow 
eyes who died with consumption. She was greatly 
apprehensive that my lungs might be affected. 

“In order to lead the conversation to something 
pleasanter, I remark that it is a beautiful day. Mrs. 
Boyce is sorry to say that she cannot agree with me. 
May is to. her the most unpleasant month of the year. 
One is in constant danger of taking cold, and there 
are so many long storms. The wind is in the east 
this morning, and she thinks the blossom storm is 
approaching. Is my baby w T ell ? 

“ Delighted to have found a subject which cannot 
fail to be enlivening, I launch forth into hyperbole. 

“ ‘ O, perfectly well ! He is the picture of health, 
and so fat ! ’ 

“ Mrs. Boyce shakes her head forbiddingly. 

“ 6 So fat, did you say ? That is a pity. These 
hearty, robust children are so liable to be seized with 
croup, in which case there is very small chance for 
them.’ 

“The mere suggestion of such a theory strikes such 
a thrill of terror to my heart that I am silent, and the 
lady proceeds mournfully to observe that w^e have no 
cause to regret children who are taken away in their 
infancy. It is a hard world for children, especially 
boys, to grow up in. There is so much of evil 
waiting to entrap them before they fairly cross the 
threshold of childhood. So many of our young men 


Cobwebs. 


281 


are falling victims to the terrible habit of intemper- 
ance. Indeed, she has long ago ceased to regret that 
she has no children. She should have no peace of her 
life while they were growing up. A solemn silence 
follows this announcement, and I, after raking jny 
brains to find a cheerful topic, at length remark, that 
Cleveland is a beautiful city. 

“Do I think so? Well, perhaps it may strike a 
stranger thus, but one who has spent a life-time here, 
and become familiar with the scenes of evil and 
wretchedness and poverty which every-wliere exist, 
can see nothing pleasant or attractive about it. I 
observe that such is the case in every large city. We 
must look for the sunny places, and close our eyes to 
dark corners. 

“ ‘ Why, Mrs. Hunt ! I hope you are not so heart- 
less and un-Christian as to wink at sin and misery. 
Your husband, now, is using all his influence to fight 
down these terrible evils. He is one of our noblest 
young men.’ 

“ Bravo ! Mrs. Boyce has said something pleasant 
at last. Pleasant! Delightful! My cheeks glow 
with pride and pleasure, but before I can give ex- 
pression to my feelings the lady continues, 

“ ‘ Perhaps I ought not to tell you, but you are mar- 
ried now, and all that is long past. Of course you 
will not attach any serious importance to it, but the 
fact is, Mr. Hunt used to be very attentive to a niece 
of mine, a lovely young girl she was, beautiful as a 


282 


A Golden Inheritance. 


picture, and a perfect angel in disposition. Every 
body confidently expected that he would marry her, 
and so I have since had reason to believe did she 
herself. When he brought home a wife it was the 
greatest possible surprise to every body, and poor 
dear Minnie lived only two months. It was a clear 
case of a broken heart.’ ” 

Ralph Hunt’s face was deeply flushed as his wife 
concluded this part of her recital. 

“ It was a clear case of pneumonia brought on by 
reckless exposure after dancing. Minnie Boyce never 
died of a broken heart for any man, and besides, what 
little heart she had was held in the possession of a 
very worthy young friend of mine who mourns her 
sincerely to this day.” 

“ Thanks ! You have brushed away one of my cob- 
webs,” smiled Lulu. “ I confess that lovely broken- 
hearted girl was a huge one. Well, by this time, 
having no doubt concluded that she has left me suit- 
able food for reflection, Mrs. Boyce takes her depart- 
ure, pressing my hand solemnly as she says good- 
bye, and whispering the hope that in time I will be 
led to turn from the error of my ways, and seek the 
Lord while he may be found ! ” 

“ And by this time, I suppose, there are more cob- 
webs than you can count,” remarked her husband, 
gravely. 

“ Indeed there are ! I have no heart for my walk, 
now. I have become painfully conscious that the 


Cobwebs. 


283 


w T ind is in the east, and that there hangs a cloud of 
chill over every thing. I, therefore, settle myself at 
my sewing, hoping to chase away the disagreeableness 
by interest in my work, but impossible. My whole 
heaven is obscured. At noon I fold up my work 
with a sigh, and descend to the kitchen department to 
see how dinner is coming on, and find, to my great 
provocation, that Bridget has let the potatoes boil 
dry, and Mat has broken one of my large glass dishes. 
Yexed, now, beyond all endurance, I administer to 
each of the delinquents a sound reproof, and have the 
satisfaction, as soon as my back is turned, of hearing 
Mat mutter, in an abused tone, ‘ What an awful 
wicked woman Mis’ Hunt is! How, the woman in 
my Sunday-school book, she would ’a said, “Well, 
never mind, accidents will happen,” or somethin’ 
’nuther like that ; but Mis’ Hunt, she jest snaps you 
up awful! She’s no good.’ And with the wretched 
feeling that I am no good, and an increased respect 
for the women in Sunday-school books, I go about all 
the rest of the day, too disgusted to brush away any 
more cobwebs, and so they stay. And so it goes day 
after day,” 

The sudden ringing of the door-bell cut Mrs. 
Hunt’s homily short. 

“ I hope it is nobody to call,” she said, springing 
up, and surveying her rumpled hair in the mirror. 

“ Any more cobwebs gathering ? ” asked her hus- 
band, laughing. 


284 


A Golden Inheritance. 


“ It was a man, and lie brought a letter,” spluttered 
Mat, appearing with a yellow envelope in her hand. 
Lulu’s eye caught the ominous words, “Western 
Union Telegraph.” She snatched it from the child’s 
hand, and tore it open, with trembling fingers and 
paling lips. 

“ Robin very sick. JSo possible hope. Come at 
once.” 

“ O Ralph ! ” she cried, “ more cobwebs, indeed ! ” 

The next morning they were in Burlington. 


“ That Little Slip/ 


285 


XXVII. 


“THAT LITTLE SLIP.” 

“ A millstone and the human heart 
Are driven ever round. 

If they have nothing else to grind 
They must themselves be ground.” 


HEN Philip Fairfax awoke from his drunken 



VV sleep he looked about him, dazed and helpless. 
What was it ? What had happened ? He pressed 
his hands to his brow in a vain effort to remember. 
There was a violent pain in his head, and his throat 
felt hot and dry. Had he been sick? he wondered. 
At the last recollection which he had of any thing, 
he was somewhere with Robin; ah, it was coming 
back to him now, the sickening reality! He had 
taken Robin Holmes to the ball, and he had left it 
in a state of beastly intoxication. Further than that 
he could recall nothing. How she had got home, or 
whether she had got home at all or not, he had no 
idea. lie had a confused recollection of somebody’s 
trying to stop the horse ; after that, all was a blank. 
Some one must have caught the bridle, he concluded, 
but whether friend or foe, he could not determine ; 
friend it must have been, else w T hy was he lying here, 
on his own bed at home ? An intense anxiety to 


286 


A Golden Inheritance. 


learn the truth took possession of him. But how to 
accomplish it was the question. He could inquire of 
no one ; in fact, now that he thought of it, it would 
not be a pleasant thing to go down stairs at all. 
IIow could he face the family, when they must all 
know of his disgrace ? certainly they must know some 
one must have helped him to his room. It would be 
easier, he thought, to face the cannon’s mouth than to 
encounter the contemptuous flash of Judge Fairfax’s 
splendid eyes, the curling lip of Mrs. Fairfax, and 
the averted face of Florence. Ho, he had no strength 
for such an ordeal, he concluded. He must rest 
quietly where he was and leave all to chance. At any 
rate, it was too late now to undo any thing which 
had been done. He drew out his watch. It was 
four o’clock. Five was the dinner hour. He must 
appear at dinner, at all events. Perhaps the best 
thing to do would be to put a bold face upon the 
matter and meet them as if nothing had happened. 
What was it, after all ? only the commonest kind of 
an occurrence, not with himself, of course, but a 
young man could not be immaculate. Ho doubt even 
his stately uncle himself had committed like errors 
in his youth, far more serious ones, it might be. Ho 
doubt they would look with all due leniency upon the 
affair, and in a few days it would be entirely forgot- 
ten. Thus reasoning he arose, languidly, brushed 
and straightened himself, carefully, before the mir- 
ror, vexed greatly to behold that last night’s debauch 


“That Little Slip. : 


287 


liad left its impress upon liis face to such an extent 
that no amount of pains could obliterate it, and went 
down stairs, lighting a cigar on his way. Stepping 
noiselessly upon the piazza, he surprised Florence, 
swinging lazily in a hammock, her eyes upon the dis- 
tant hills and her thoughts afar. Her cheeks crim- 
soned deeply as she saw him, and she half arose to 
run away. King Philip, in his present condition, with 
the memory of the morning still fresh in her thoughts, 
was no desirable associate. Indeed, she found it hard, 
even to speak to him, or recognize him. But, as she 
looked at him, kinder impulses took possession of her. 
“For Lottie’s sake,” something seemed to whisper in 
her ear. She sank back into her hammock with a 
sigh. 

“ For Christ’s sake,” spoke out a stronger voice. 

“ Philip,” she said, obeying the impulses that moved 
her, as, leaning forward, she placed her hand upon 
his, “ I am sorry for you.” He started, flushed hotly, 
and turned his eyes away. 

“ I do not ask you to be sorry for me,” he said, in 
a constrained voice. 

“Nevertheless, I am sorry for you,” she repeated, 
strongly, “so sorry that I can never find it in my 
heart to forgive you for the disgrace which your con- 
duct has brought upon me.” 

“ Upon you, Floy ? Are you so fanatical as that ? 
What disgrace have I brought upon you ?” 

“ The disgrace of being own cousin to a man who 


288 


A Golden Inhekitance. 


drinks,” she said, still keeping her eyes upon him 
with flashes of scorn in their blue depths. He turned 
away uneasily. 

“Honsense, Floy ! I thought you had more of the 
Fairfax pride than to acknowledge even the existence 
of such a fact.” 

Florence’s proud lips curled. It was manifest that 
she had but little charity for Philip Fairfax. Strive 
as she might to bring her stubborn heart in subjection 
to the law of love, there was still within her a feeling 
of personal injury, which was slow to yield to the 
promptings of her better nature. Perhaps, though 
she did not know it, the very severity of her manner 
was the best kind of treatment for her fallen hero in 
his present condition of mind. All his life the way 
had been made pleasant for him. Sins, which in one 
less favored would have been considered grave in- 
deed, in him were passed over with the tenderest and 
most forbearing patience. Gross errors and petty 
shortcomings were alike regarded with so lenient an 
eye, that he had come to entertain the opinion that 
lie might with impunity follow the dictates of his 
own lawless spirit without endangering the respect 
or admiration of the proudest of his associates. There 
was a certain stateliness of manner and superiority of 
bearing about Philip Fairfax which commanded in- 
voluntary homage. People gave it without being 
aware of it. As for Florence, all her treatment of 
him had been deferential. She looked up to him as 


That Little Slip/ 


289 


a superior being. This sudden change in her de- 
meanor, therefore, struck the gentleman with a sense 
of crushing coldness. Had he, then, so deported him- 
self that in the twinkling of an eye adoration was 
turned into contempt ? 

“ Floy,” he said, at length, taking the cigar from 
his lips and tossing it out into the grass, “ tell me all 
you know about this business, for I confess I am 
lamentably ignorant of the whole transaction. At 
what time did I arrive at home, and who assisted me 
to my room ? ” 

In few words Florence gave him the details of his 
home-coming, not hesitating to set forth his appear- 
ance in its most disgusting light. “ It may prove a 
wholesome dose,” she thought. ; ‘At least, I must 
have the satisfaction of administering it.” 

“ Did this fellow, this Mark Gregory, as you call 
him, see lit to state where he had the pleasure of 
picking me up, and under what circumstances ? ” he 
asked, bitterly, when she concluded her narrative. 

“ He said he found you two miles out of town, but 
furthermore declined to state. He said the horse 
w T as on the point of running away, but that he was 
stopped in time and no one was hurt.” 

“ Did he mention nothing about Robin ? ” 

“ Nothing. I imagine he had pledged himself to 
silence. I have no doubt that he saw her safely home 
before coming here.” 

“ Is he an acquaintance of yours, this Gregory ? ” 

19 


290 


A Golden Inhekitance. 


Florence bowed reticently. She had no inclina- 
tion to speak of Mark Gregory to Philip Fairfax. 

“ Am I, then, to understand that yon and old Jim 
are the only members of the family who witnessed 
my mishap ?” 

“ Yes, thanks to Mr. Gregory’s thoughtful kind- 
ness. The whole town might have witnessed it had 
he been less of a gentleman and a Christian.” 

“ A Christian ; ah, that’s it ! I imagined as much. 
Floy, for heaven’s sake don’t throw religion up at 
me now. If I have fallen, it is no more than thou- 
sands of others do every day ; Christians, too, or 
those who bear the name of Christians. But one 
thing I assure you, intemperance is not my besetting 
sin. I have fallen a victim to the evil perhaps two 
or three times in my life, but my strength of will is 
such that there is not the slightest fear that it will 
overcome me. How I happened to get so entangled 
as I did last night I cannot imagine. The evening 
was very warm, and for some reason Bobin was in 
the most morose and uninteresting of moods, and the 
re'st of the company was such that I could neither 
enjoy nor make myself agreeable to, and in an unfort- 
unate moment I ventured into the bar-room. I went 
for a cigar and called for a glass of champagne. I 
was thirsty and took more than I was in the habit of 
taking, and I have no doubt it was a kind of stuff 
altogether different from that which I have been in 
the habit of drinking. Any way, it overcame me 


That Little Slip/ 


291 


completely. I was scarcely conscious of any thing 
clearly after we left the hotel. I had a vague idea 
that Eobin suspected my condition and was afraid to 
ride with me. I recollect her trying to take the lines 
away from me, and the next thing I knew some one 
grasped the bridle and Eobin sprang out. Every 
thing after that is a blank to me. I suppose the 
stranger who waylaid us must have been your Mark 
Gregory, though where he sprang from at that un- 
earthly hour I cannot say. I suppose you Christians 
would call it a providence.” 

“ A providence, indeed,” said Florence, “ and a 
most merciful one. Where do you suppose you 
would have brought up had you been left to your 
own devices \ ” 

“ On the side of the road, probably,” said Philip, 
with an attempt at raillery. But Florence was in no 
mood for jesting. Her face continued grave and 
unrelenting. 

“ You have not informed my uncle and aunt of the 
affair ? ” he asked, hesitatingly, after a pause, during 
which he had been studying his cousin’s face. 

“ Ho. I have no wish to parade your misfortune, 
Philip ; I am not anxious to have it known that I 
have a cousin who has not sufficient self-govern- 
ment to restrain him from making a beast of him- 
self.” 

“ There, there, Floy,” he said, rising hastily, with 
an angry flash in his eyes. “ Do not let your Chris- 


292 


A Golden Inheritance. 


tianity make yon insulting ; or is it a part of yonr 
creed to strike a man when he’s down ? ” 

The hard curve died away from Florence’s lips. 
Was this following the meek and lowly Jesus ? Had 
Philip Fairfax transgressed beyond the limit of 
God’s mercy? The proud, cold look melted away 
utterly, and a beautiful smile came in its place. 

“ Philip, forgive me,” she said. “Your conduct 
looks contemptible to me; but while my Lord and 
Master can look upon it with forbearance, it does not 
become me to be severe.” 

“ After all,” began Philip, excusingly, “ I have 
committed no crime. It was more an accident than 
any thing else. Such little slips must be overlooked, 
Floy.” 

“ Must they ? ” and Floy’s lips grew stern again. 
“ If we had just ourselves in this world, independ- 
ent of others, it might be possible to overlook them, 
but the trouble is that our lives are so entwined with 
other lives that we cannot bring misery and suffering 
upon ourselves without bringing it tenfold upon those 
whose lives are so bound up in us. For instance, 
how do you think Miss Gladstone would look upon 
this 4 little slip ’ of yours ? ” 

He laughed a trifle discordantly, evidently feeling 
uneasy at this allusion to his affianced. 

“ W ell, to tell the truth, I should decidedly prefer 
that her ladyship be not made acquainted with the 
affair. 4 Where ignorance is bliss,’ you know, 4 ’tis 


“That Little Slip/ 


293 


folly to be wise.’ I do not consider myself answer- 
able to her for all my misdeeds.” 

“ Then, likewise, you should be willing to release 
her from all accountability to yourself. I presume 
you would scarcely be pleased to behold your intend- 
ed wife in the condition you were in last night ? ” 

“Floy, how like an unreasoning child you talk! 
Intoxication in a woman is altogether different. It is 
unpardonable, and not to be thought of. Ladies are 
understood to be created of material too fine for the 
indulgence of such appetites.” 

“ Then they are certainly created of material too 
fine to tolerate the vice in their other selves. When 
you offered Miss Gladstone your heart, you doubtless 
gave her to understand that it was an honest gift. I 
do not think she would have been willing to accept of 
any thing else. What right have you to pollute 
yourself in this way, while the woman who loves you 
believes you a gentleman of honor and rectitude ? ” 

Philip Fairfax did not answer. It was exceedingly 
galling to his pride to be thus taken to task by his 
young cousin, more so because he recognized her rea- 
soning as correct. To tell the truth, there was much 
in his character which he would have shrunk from 
exposing to the clear honest eyes of Lottie Gladstone. 
Moreover, she was a subject which he had no great 
desire to discuss at any time. lie was glad, there- 
fore, when the ringing of the dinner-bell closed the 
interview. 


294 : 


A Golden Inheritance 


XXVIII. 


BITTERNESS. 


“We think no ear could hear us if we cried; 
We think God would not miss us if we died.” 


ES, Robin would live ! The joyful words flashed 



i from one to the other as they met in the gray 
light of the early dawn. God had turned back the 
reckless young feet from the very brink of the shore- 
less ocean. 

“ His name be praised ! ” ejaculated Aunty "Whip- 
ple, holding up both hands, and lifting her eyes de- 
voutly to the early sky. 

Dr. Hunt, passing out of the front door, almost 
stumbled over Ralph and Lulu in the passage. He 
grasped their hands, warmly. 

“ God is good,” he said, in answer to their unspoken 
inquiry. “ Her life still hangs upon a thread, but I 
consider her saved. I never saw but one such case 
before ; a resurrection, I called that ; I have since dis 
covered that it was a direct answer to intense, agoniz- 
ing prayer. I think this must have been the result 
of the same agency. It was a case which has baffled 
my skill from the first.” 

Meantime Robin lay upon her bed, white as the 
veriest snow-drop that ever bloomed, and so frail and 


Bitterness. 


295 


faint that she had scarcely strength sufficient to raise 
the lids from the tired eyes. Too weak and exhausted 
even to think, she beheld, as in a lialf-w T aking dream, 
the faces which now and then flitted before her, but 
scarcely exercised a sufficient supply of reasoning 
power to give them name or place in her memory. 
She was conscious often of a pair of soft blue eyes which 
might have been her mother’s had she not recollected, 
in a dim way, that her mother’s eyes had gone out of 
her sky, as the stars that fade away from our vision 
to sparkle in some other blue. Still this face (she 
must have seen it in her dreams somewhere) was ever 
hovering over her, and a hand light as a snow-flake, 
and as cool, she thought, w T as often smoothing the 
damp curls away from her forehead, or holding 
some cooling cordial to her lips. “ Could it be her 
mother ? No.” One morning the brown eyes, rest- 
ing longer than usual upon this face, gathered in the 
truth. 

“ Lulu,” she said, feebly. The sister bent over and 
kissed her, quietly. “ I thought it was mother,” she 
said, and closed her eyes again. 

She gained strength slowly. May slipped by and 
June before the rich life-blood began to course freely 
though her veins again. She came out of her sick- 
room, at last, a mere white shadow of the very 
healthy girl of tw T o years ago.” 

“ It is the twentieth of June,” said Lulu, as she 
drew the great easy-cliair to the window. f 


296 


A Golden Inhekitance. 


Bobin sank into it with a weary sigh. “ My birth- 
day,” she said. “ Do you remember, Lu, three years 
ago this day, I expected to come in possession of poor 
Aunt Bobin’s money. It seems so long, O, so long 
ago ! ” 

“ Perhaps you’ll come into your inheritance yet,” 
remarked her sister, in a cheery tone. “ See, here, 
what some one has sent you.” 

She laid a lovely cluster of roses and heliotrope in 
her lap. 

Bobin raised the flowers to her lips and rested 
her white cheek against their fragrant coolness. As 
she did so a tiny card dropped from among them, 
and she read the name of Philip Fairfax. Lulu, 
watching her, in some curiosity, saw a quick tide of 
crimson flood her cheeks and brow, and in another 
moment the beautiful flowers lay outside the window- 
sill. 

“ Why, Bobin ! ” she said, in surprise. 

Bobin turned upon her a pair of flashing eyes. 

“Lulu Hunt, I will tell you now once for all, 
never bring me even a flower from Philip Fair- 
fax.” 

“ Why not ? What has he- done ? ” 

But Bobin’s spasm of energy had passed. She 
had no strength to speak upon this topic now. She 
closed her eyes wearily ; even the light of day was 
galling. 

“ A carriage is stopping at the gate,” said Lulu, 


Bitterness. 


297 


looking out. “ It is Floy, I think, who is getting out. 
How sweet that girl grows ! ” 

Robin lay back upon the pillows of her chair, her 
eyes roving restlessly about the room. 

“Lu,' J she said, as the noise of Floy’s crutch 
sounded in the hall, “I wish you could leave me 
alone with Floy for a little while.” 

Florence entered with a vain attempt at cheerful- 
ness. It was not easy to smile in view of that wan 
face in the rocking-chair. The moment Lulu left 
the room she tossed a letter into her lap. Bobin 
recognized the handsome penmanship of Philip Fair- 
fax. She held it in her hand for a moment, as if 
hesitating whether to read it or to dispose of it as she 
had of the flowers. 

“You would better read it,” muttered Florence, 
who had been watching her face with eager eyes. 

Bobin cut the envelope open with great care and 
deliberation. She was very reluctant to read any thing 
from the pen of the man who had so deceived her. 
It was a long letter and closely written. She 
was several minutes reading it. Florence watched 
her with great waves of pity and anger swelling in 
her heart. Had Philip Fairfax been the instrument 
of this destruction? she questioned, as she took 
note of the wasted cheeks and hollow eyes and the 
thin little fingers, which were scarcely strong enough 
to bear the weight of that perfumed, tinted sheet of 
note paper. If he had, and Floy’s teeth set them- 


298 A Golden Inheritance. 

selves sharply into her velvet under lip, he was worse 
than criminal. 

Robin folded up the letter and leaned her cheek 
upon her hand for a moment reflectively. When she 
looked up it was to meet the wistful gaze of the blue 
eyes opposite. She smiled sadly. 

“ W ell, Floy, what are yon thinking ? ” she asked. 

“I am wondering whether you will answer this 
letter.” 

“ No,” said Robin, slowly, “ I shall write nothing. 
I will give yon a message for your cousin.” Her head 
drooped again, the great eyes absently studying the 
carpet. “ You may tell him,” she said, at length, 
“ that I accept his apology ; that I forgive him ; but 
he need not call. I am going to Newport as soon 
as I am able to travel, and it is not necessary that 
we should meet again.” 

Florence looked at her seriously, and, after a mo- 
ment’s hesitation, said, 

“ Seems to me I wouldn’t send such a message, 
Robin.” 

“ Why not ? What more or less can I say ? It is 
a matter of no importance what I say to Philip 
Fairfax.” 

“ But I am afraid he will think — ” began Florence, 
and then stopped in some confusion. 

“ Well, go on,” said Robin, impatiently, “ what will 
he think ? ” 

“ He may think — he is very conceited, you know — 


Bitterness. 


299 


that yon have found yourself growing too fond of 
him.” 

The brown eyes fairly blazed. 

“Then you can simply tell him that I despise 
him,” she said, emphatically. 

“ Perhaps it is right,” said Florence, doubtfully, 
“ but I am sorry ; I wish you could have found it possi- 
ble to meet him again, with kindly indifference, at 
least. I am ashamed of him, and grievously disap- 
pointed in him, but I do not like to annihilate him 
altogether.” 

“I do. At present, certainly, I have neither 
spirit nor inclination for any interview with him. 
I wish him well, that is all.” 

“ When do you think you will leave Burlington ? ” 

“Next week, if possible. Ralph and Lulu are 
anxious to go, and I am as well, perhaps, as I ever 
shall be.” 

“ Nonsense ! after a few weeks at the sea-shore 
you will find yourself brown as a berry.” 

Robin shook her head. 

“ I have very little hope of it,” she said. “ In fact, 
I have no great desire to get well. I feel as if there 
were nothing to live for. Do you know what Mr. 
Dunbar says ? ” 

“ He surely would say nothing disparaging to you 
in your present condition ! ” 

“ 0, don’t blame him. He is kindness itself. He 
thinks he is acting for my good, and so do my brother 


300 A Golden Inheritance. 

and sister ; but they do not know me. To take away 
employment from me now is to take away my life- 
springs. All the hope I had, that I might in time 
recover my old vivacity and spirit, was in the antic- 
ipation of hard work, and plenty of it. Any one 
who thoroughly understood my temperament would 
know that an idle life is the worst kind of torture to 
me, and yet that is the very thing which they are 
condemning me to.” 

“Do you mean that Mr. Dunbar has refused to 
restore you to your position ? ” 

“Yes; absolutely, utterly refused. For a year at 
least, he says, I must have entire rest. Dr. Hunt 
thinks this sickness was brought on by too steady 
application to business and too hard a mental strain. 
I must have rest, rest, rest. If they only knew how 
I hate the word ! Rest ! what rest will there be for 
me in drifting about from place to place with idle 
hands and a tortured brain ? The very thought of it 
is laborious.” 

“It will not seem so when you are among new 
scenes and new interests. A sick body makes a sick 
mind. When you are well again life will look fresh 
and interesting as ever.” 

“ Flo, you don’t begin to know or understand ; nor 
does any one else. Dr. Hunt entirely mistakes in his 
theory. This fever was not the result of overwork, 
but of overplay. Last winter was to me one round 
of dissipation, nothing else. I was out until after 


Bitterness. 


301 


midnight at least twice every week, often three or 
four times. After dancing for hours I would come 
home thoroughly chilled, and so exhausted that I had 
scarcely strength enough to crawl up stairs. I would 
snatch a few hours of troubled sleep and rise in the 
morning, sometimes too dizzy and sick to raise my 
head from the pillow. I would swallow a cup of 
coffee and start for the store. I never thought of 
staying at home upon any conditions. No matter 
how ill and unfit for business I might be, I was 
always at my post. I went into that store, some 
mornings when my head was fairly reeling with 
pain, and I stuck to it to the bitter end, though 
some days every moment was torture. That is the 
way in which I abused my poor body. Is it any 
wonder that it rebelled at last ? ” 

“ How were you led into this excess at first \ ” 
asked Florence. 

“ That is a useless question for you to ask,” said 
Bobin, bitterly. “Who has been the cause of my 
undoing since the hour I first met him ? Philip 
Fairfax. Step by step he has led me away from 
right, away from duty, away from principle, away 
from God. Before he threw his unkind influence 
about me I was beginning to feel round in the ..dark- 
ness after God, and I was finding him. After Philip 
Fairfax came, it seemed as if every right principle 
died out of my heart, as delicate spring-flowers 
die beneath a clear, sharp frost. He was brilliant, 


302 


A Golden Inheritance. 


fascinating, and I thought, immaculately wise. He 
sneered at Christianity, and spoke lightly of holy 
things, and I came to regard all religion as a sham, 
all strict notions of propriety as puritanical, and all 
the finer thoughts and emotions as weak and sensa- 
tional. I lost faith in every thing, and turned my 
back even upon the memory of my mother’s pure 
life. lie solicited me to accompany him every-where, 
and drew me into a class of society for which I had 
little taste or inclination. He discovered that I was 
foolishly fond of dancing, and took advantage of that 
weakness to draw me into a very whirpool of excite- 
ment and gayety. I w T as a mere tool in his hands. 
I was flattered because he preferred my society to 
that of others whom I considered more adapted to 
him, while the sole cause of his preference lay in the 
fact that he could wind me about his finger, and the 
knowledge was gratifying to his vanity. He went 
to the end of the halter, however, when he invited me 
to attend that last ball with him. I knew it was to 
be rather a ‘ fast ’ affair, but I was totally ignorant as 
to the class of society to which I was to be intro- 
duced that evening. When I discovered it I was 
thoroughly disgusted. It needed not that last 
crowning insult to disenchant me with Philip Fairfax. 
His drinking to excess was only the climax. I was 
scarcely surprised and only a trifle more outraged. 
Ho yon wonder, Floy, that, with my knowledge of 
his baseness, I never care to speak to him again ? ” 


Bitterness. 


303 


“ No, I do not wonder. Still, you might feel less 
bitter, for I am sure he is deeply penitent. But bet- 
ter feelings will come in time, I think.” 

“ Possibly they may,” said Robin, wearily; “but 
just now I cannot bear even the thought of him.” 

“After all, it may be the best kind of discipline for 
Phil,” thought Florence, as she drove away. “He has 
had easy lessons all his life ; this hard one, perhaps, 
will prove altogether wholesome.” 

But to Robin, gazing into the blue depths of the 
June sky, there was nothing wholesome under the 
sun. She had been deceived, bitterly deceived. Life, 
that used to be so golden and glorious, had suddenly 
turned upon her its ugliest side. It was smiting her 
cruelly, so that she had no wish, crushed and helpless 
as she was, but to lie covered by the darkness. 

“All this I owe to Philip Fairfax,” she said, in her 
bitterness of soul. 

Ah, no, Robin, not to Philip Fairfax, but to your 
own foolish self belongs the blame, because you went 
so easily astray. 

Poor King Philip, disenthroned from the hearts of 
his loyal subjects, angry with himself, with Robin, 
and with all the world, passing that small house in 
the fragrant twilight, caught sight of a bunch of choice 
flowers lying crushed and faded outside of the win- 
dow where Robin’s impatient hands had thrust them. 
He drew in his breath sharply, turned on his heel, 
and walked the other way. 


304 


A Golden Inheeitance. 


XXIX. 


OY Eli CAST. 


“ 0 lost days of delight that are wasted in doubting and waiting! 
0 lost hours and days in which we might have been happy ! 71 


O cobwebs here, eh, Lulu ? ” 



1M Ralph Hunt stretched himself lazily on the 
hammock and turned his face seaward, with eyes 
aglow. 

Lulu did not reply at once. She was looping back 
the white curtains from her cottage windows with an 
eye to the gracefulness of the effect. 

The view from these front windows was something 
decidedly out of the common. To Lulu’s partial 
eyes there needed nothing to complete the picture. 
On the low piazza her husband lay swinging in his 
hammock. Her bright, healthy baby rolled and tum- 
bled on the grass, crowing and clapping his fat hands 
with enjoyment, while in front of them stretched the 
wild waste of waters, tossing and foaming in the 
sunlight, the white waves dashing their snowy caps 
upon the sand which stretched silvery fair in the dis- 
tance. 

After she had completed the arrangement of her 
curtains, Lulu stood looking for a moment in 


Overcast. 


305 


thoughtful silence, then she stepped across the win- 
dow-sill and joined her husband. 

“It is a very clean w r orld to-day,” she said, soberly. 

“ Newly swept and garnished, eh ? Keep it so if 
you can, my dear. By the way, Kobin does not seem 
to get back her dimples very fast. I’m afraid there 
is some hidden malady affecting her of which we are 
ignorant. It is not easy to minister to a mind dis- 
eased.” 

“Do you think it is so serious as that?” asked 
Lulu, anxiously. 

“ I am sure I cannot tell. She has the appearance 
of one who has tasted life’s streams and found them 
bitter. But I may be mistaken. Far be it from me 
to tear open the white bud of a young girl’s heart. 
We are too apt to be fanciful.” 

“ Still it is not improbable that there is some heart 
trouble here,” said Lulu, looking across the waves, 
with anxious eyes. “I do not like that silent, ab- 
sorbed way she has had since her sickness. I can find 
out nothing about her life during the years of our 
separation. Aunty Whipple is exceedingly quiet, and 
I can ask no one else. It is a great pity that she did 
not come with us, Balph.” 

“Perhaps not. We have all to learn bitter lessons 
some time in our lives ; the sooner they are learned 
the better, I think ; and even we might have found 
ourselves powerless to keep her eyes bright.” 

“So we might, but I should have made strong 
20 


306 


A Golden Inheritance. 


effort to do so, Balpli. I hope she has not to learn 
those terrible lessons that I blundered through with 
such an aching heart.” 

“ I think not. Her temper is different. Her dis- 
position is not like yours. It is less severe. She 
would not punish herself needlessly.” 

But that was just what Robin was doing : binding 
upon her weary shoulders burdens which they need 
not have borne, until the weight of them had become 
intolerable. Behold her this afternoon, half sitting, 
half lying upon a cliff overlooking the sea, her hands 
idly folded in her lap, the lines about her mouth, 
wistful beyond expression, and her eyes intensely 
sad, looking across the dancing waves, with a gaze so 
mournful and questioning that passers-by glanced 
anxiously toward her, wandering what deep shadow 
had fallen athwart so young a life. 

“ She has lost something, that girl on the cliff, 
yonder,” said a lady to her daughter, nodding signifi- 
cantly toward Robin as she spoke. 

“What has she lost?” asked the daughter, carelessly. 

“ Her peace of mind, I fear.” 

The young lady smiled, turned and looked again. 

' There was something decidedly pathetic in the steady 
gaze of those beautiful eyes. It was as if looking 
they saw not. The pale, thin face, with the short 
brown hair curling in broad rings about the wdiitest 
of foreheads, was so very young ! 

“The face of a child on -whom has fallen the 


Overcast. 


307 


weight of years,” said the young lady, and then she 
stopped short, gazing at poor Eobin as if spell-bound. 

“ My dear,” said her mother, reprovingly. 

Lottie Gladstone drew her hand from her mother’s 
arm. 

“ I am going to speak to her,” she said, decidedly. 
“I think I recognize an acquaintance. You may walk 
on. I will join you in a few moments.” 

Hearing a footstep near her, Eobin looked up to 
meet the earnest gaze of a pair of homely, light-blue 
eyes. Indeed, the whole face was so decidedly 
homely, that Eobin looked away instantly. She 
never cared to look long at an unattractive face. 
Miss Gladstone caught the displeasure in the express- 
ive eyes and smiled, gravely. It was not pleasant 
nor easy to bear, but Miss Gladstone had seen the 
same expression and read the same disapproval of her 
personal appearance in so many eyes that she became 
accustomed to it. It did not hurt her now, as 4 it 
used to do in her early girlhood. When she had first 
looked upon the pictured face of Eobin Holmes, 
great waves of jealous pain had surged over her rebell- 
ious heart, but to-day, looking for the first time at the 
original of the lovely picture, she was conscious only 
of a strong feeling of pity. Was it Philip Fairfax’s 
work, this transformation % The pale blue eyes grew 
luminous with indignation at the suggestion. 

“ You have a fine view of the sea from here,” she 
said, in a quiet voice. 


308 


A Golden Inheritance. 


“Yes, I always choose this point. Will yon sit 
down ? ” And she made room for her on the narrow 
seat. 

Miss Gladstone accepted the invitation. Her first 
remark, though unpremeditated, was fortunate as a 
preliminary to the subject which she wished to intro- 
duce. 

“ This view is what Mark Gregory would call a 
blessing .’ 5 

“ Mark Gregory ! 55 exclaimed Robin. 

“ Yes ; do you know him ? 55 

“ Yery slightly ; but he once did me a great kind- 
ness ; 55 and Robin’s eyes grew sad again. 

Lottie Gladstone was entirely ignorant of the cir 
cumstance to which she alluded, but she knew Mark 
Gregory. 

“Ho doubt of it,” she said, heartily. 

“ May I ask you if you are from Burlington ? ” 
said Robin, with a show of interest lighting up her 
pale face. 

“ Ho ; my home is in Boston. Mark Gregory is a 
cousin of mine. I am Lottie Gladstone.” She 
watched Robin narrowly as she spoke the name. It 
was possible that she had heard it before, more prob- 
able that she had not. But Robin’s face revealed 
nothing. The unexpected revelation had set her 
pulses bounding, and sent the ever- ready crimson to 
her cheeks. Still the sad, brown eyes gazed steadily 
seaward, with neither droop nor tremor to betray 


Overcast. 309 

tliat she was not listening to the name of Lottie 
Gladstone for the first time. 

Miss Gladstone was perplexed, and a trifle out of 
patience with herself. After all it was a foolish, 
childish impulse which had -moved her to seek the 
acquaintance of this stranger. She had been moved 
by a vague idea of drawing her out, and discovering, 
if possible, how far Philip was responsible for the 
disquietude which was so apparent in her face and 
manner. But the drawing-out process, she perceived, 
was likely to be a more difficult task than she had 
imagined. A keen reader of the human heart, she 
readily discerned that this was no surface character, 
to be held up to the gaze of every passer-by. Yo 
degree of artifice, however skillful, she surmised, 
would be able to pry into the hidden recesses of this 
young heart unless the owner were so determined. 
Yes, she had been silly and romantic even to think 
of such a proceeding with an entire stranger. 

She half arose, with an impulse to go, and sat down 
again, gazing at Robin so steadily, in her absorption, 
that the girl moved and winced beneath the intense 
gaze. “ What did it mean,” she questioned, irritably. 
“ What interest had she for Lottie Gladstone, or had 
Philip Fairfax gone farther in his unmanliness than 
she liad dreamed ? ” The thought set her eyes ablaze, 
and she turned them upon the pale, blue ones so 
fiercely that they drooped in affright. 

“I beg your pardon,” said Miss Gladstone, has- 


310 A Golden Inheritance. 

tily. “What an opinion you must have formed of 
me, staring at yon in this impudent way.” 

“ Well,” said Eobin, folding her arms, composedly, 
“go on and state why you do it, and what are your 
reasons for seeking an interview with me whom you 
never saw before in your life.” 

“ I beg your pardon again,” said Miss Gladstone, 
quietly. “ Though I have never seen you before, I 
have seen so excellent a representation of you that I 
recognized you at once as the original of a picture 
over which I have puzzled much and admired 
greatly.” 

Eobin’s lips curled scornfully, and she leaned back 
in her seat and looked at Miss Gladstone, and looked 
at her with such contemptuous eyes that the lady was 
at her wits’ end what course to pursue. The situation 
was exceedingly awkward. She had plunged into a 
subject which could not fail to be unpleasant, even 
had she been dealing with a person of even temper 
and mild disposition, but in connection with this 
excitable girl it must be disagreeable in the extreme. 

She saw no way out of her dilemma now, but the 
straightforward one, and that, she rightly concluded, 
was the only proper method of dealing with so 
tempestuous a character. But, while she was care- 
fully considering the most delicate means of ap- 
proach, Eobin herself unexpectedly opened the 
way. 

“It is but another proof of Mr. Fairfax’s gentle- 


Overcast. 


311 


manly instincts, that he has seen fit to amuse you by 
allusions to me,” she said, biting her words. 

Robin was very angry. Had she been in her 
right mind, so coarse a remark would not have es- 
caped her lips ; she was by nature highly refined and 
exceptionally pure in speech. But it is notable that, 
as out of the serenest of summer skies often burst 
the rudest of storms and whirlwind, so natures, most 
intensely refined, when roused to passion, will some- 
times blaze out into words and expletives of such 
coarse fury that we stand amazed at the possibility. 
The passionate, unjust speech roused the even temper 
of Miss Gladstone. 

“ You are entirely mistaken,” she said, haughtily. 
“Mr. Fairfax has never spoken your name in my 
presence. Indeed, I am wholly ignorant of it. The 
picture to which I referred came into my possession 
by the merest accident.” 

The sudden fury died out of Robin’s face and it 
grew crimson with mortification. 

What had she been saying to this stranger, Philip 
Fairfax’s betrothed wife ? 

“ Pardon me, Miss Gladstone,” she said, in the most 
subdued of voices; “I forgot myself entirely, and 
now, as you have probably seen enough of me, I will 
bid you good afternoon.” She arose from the seat 
as she spoke. She had no wish but to go home and 
hide herself from the eyes of all the world. 

“ Stay a moment, please,” said Miss Gladstone, 


312 


A Golden Inheritance. 


laying her hand upon Robin’s arm. “ I wish to ask 
you a question, and you may answer it or not, as you 
like. I perceive that you have some knowledge of 
my relations to Philip Fairfax. May I ask what he 
has been to you ? Wait a moment,” she added, has- 
tily, seeing the storm gathering in Robin’s face 
again. “ It is not curiosity which prompts the ques- 
tion, but a candid desire to do right. I have an 
idea, partly from my own observation and reasoning, 
that a tie of some sort has existed or does exist be- 
tween you two. If it is friendship, I have nothing to 
say. If it is more, I would know it in time.” 

a It is not even friendship,” said Robin, emphatic- 
ally. “Mr. Fairfax is nothing to me, absolutely 
nothing.” 

“ But he was ? ” 

“ I respected and admired him immeasurably, but 
that was before I knew him.” 

She paused, hesitating whether or not to go on 
and reveal Philip Fairfax in his true light. She was 
strongly tempted. He had done her the greatest 
possible wrong, she thought. When he touched her 
pride he touched her idol. She was conscious of no 
feeling toward him but that of the deepest resentment. 
She had been nursing the resentment for weeks and 
weeks, until at length it had taken entire possession of 
her. To trample him under her heel, as she felt that 
he had trampled her, had come to be a fierce desire. 
Here, then, was her opportunity. This woman, this 


OYEKCASr. 


313 


rich, high-bred woman, whom he delighted to honor, 
had asked the question of her own accord. It was 
through no hint or encouragement of hers that she 
had been solicited to relate her experience as touch- 
ing Philip Fairfax. The question was, therefore, 
should she or should she not seize this opportunity of 
venting out her bitterness against the man who had 
so ruthlessly destroyed her peace. 

But this time, as in other like contests between 
right and wrong, her nobler nature triumphed. 

“No,” she decided, “much as I despise Philip 
Fairfax, I should despise myself more if I were guilty 
of taking this mean advantage.” 

Miss Gladstone, who had been intently regarding 
her, saw that there- was some struggle going on within 
her, and impatient of the long silence, said, 

“ I hope you will be frank with me in this matter. 
Consider me, if you can upon so short an acquaint- 
ance, a true friend.” 

“ I know nothing of you, Miss Gladstone,” said 
Robin, bluntly, “ except that you have a right to be 
informed of all that relates to the individual life of 
Philip Fairfax. As far as I am concerned he treated 
me with what he doubtless considered kindness. My 
sentiments toward him were friendly, nothing more, 
until he gave me what I looked upon as serious cause 
for offense, and since then I have had no intercourse 
with him.” 

She drew a sigh of relief as she closed her state- 


314 


A Golden Inheritance. 


ment. Slie was aware that she had built up no wall of 
defense for Philip Fairfax ; still she had shielded him 
to the best of her ability. She resolved firmly that 
further than this her lips were sealed. Nothing 
should elicit from her the story of his downfall. 
Therefore Miss Gladstone discovered that the effort 
to draw any thing more from Robin Holmes was as 
useless as would be the attempt to move the rock 
against which they were leaning. 

“ At least 1 may ask your name,” she said, as they 
were walking away together. 

Robin gave it, tersely. 

“I have no wish to force my acquaintance upon 
you, Miss Holmes, but for many months I have felt an 
unaccountable interest in you. It will give me great 
pleasure to see more of you during my stay here.” 

For the first time Robin took in the womanly 
sweetness of this plain face, and began to compre- 
hend that, even though linked to Philip Fairfax, she 
might be a true woman. With a quick, impulsive 
movement, she held out her hand, smiling, in her 
exquisite way. 

u If you can overlook my terrible defects, and con- 
sider me a friend, I shall esteem myself honored and 
blessed,” she said, heartily. 

Miss Gladstone looked after her with pleased eyes 
as her white dress fluttered out of sight. 

“ A noble, generous, impulsive, misguided heart,” 
she said. 


HeabtVease. 


315 


XXXV. 

HEAET’S-EASE. 

“In each white daisy ’mid the grass 
That turns my foot aside, 

In each uncurling fern I pass 
Some sweetest joy may hide.” 

T HE summer sped away on flowery wings. ♦ To 
Florence, for some reason or other, there was a 
new light over fountain and flowers that summer. 

Before that unfortunate fall from her horse, which 
had resulted so seriously, there had been no happier 
child on earth than Florence Fairfax. 

“I have a gift for enjoyment,” she had once laugh- 
ingly remarked to some one. When the evil days 
came she thought she had a gift for suffering. But 
out of these three bitter years, sharp with pain and 
distress, there had bloomed for lame Floy a beautiful 
flower which she had learned to call “ heart’ s-ease.” 
It was not a lieart’s-ease born of patient suffering or 
stoicism. Florence would never have learned pa- 
tience from the mere act of endurance. It was the 
divine hand of the great Healer, laid upon the rest- 
less heart, which had soothed its jarring vibrations 
into peace. The stricken soul had come out of dark- 
ness into the marvelous light of God’s great love. 

“ Why, I believe I am growing happy again,” she 


316 


A Golden Inheritance. 


said, at the close of a sultry day in August, as she 
watched the sunset from her favorite retreat on the 
little south piazza. 

Mark Gregory, passing, as he had a habit of doing 
at this hour, caught sight of the fair head, bathed in 
the ruddy gold of the sunset, and stopped. 

“It is not easy to pass such a picture,” he said, 
dropping into the vacant chair at her side. 

“ As the sunset % ” asked Florence, innocently. “It 
is unusually fine to-night, I think.” 

“I have just received a letter from Lottie,” he 
said, irrelevantly. “ She is spending the summer at 
Newport.” 

Florence turned with eager interest. 

“ She writes that she has found Miss Holmes, and is 
greatly charmed with her,” he went on, taking the let- 
ter from his pocket and glancing over it as he spoke. 

“ ‘ She is a fine character/ he read, 6 though a trifle 
subdued, just now, by some severe discipline, I im- 
agine. After the bitter medicine has done its work 
she will gain strength. I am studying her day by 
day, as we walk or ride together, watching the ocean 
and the wonderful sky, “God’s other deep,” some one 
has called it. I think I see, in this ardent young 
nature, a great attraction for “Philip, my king.” She 
has all the innocent simplicity of a child, with the 
tender charm of a woman. One does not often pick 
up such a blossom by the way-side. She does not wear 
her heart upon her sleeve, by any means. I can 


Heart’s -ease. 


317 


gain from her nothing concerning her relations to 
Philip ; but of one thing I am assured, that whatever 
they may have been to him, they were of very slight 
importance to her. She may be in love with some 
one else, but she is not, in the remotest degree, in 
love with Philip Fairfax.’ ” 

“ It is a great pity,” said Florence, as Mr. Gregory 
folded up the letter. 

“ What is a pity ? ” 

“That Philip Fairfax were not more worthy of this 
generous-souled woman. I confess, with all due re- 
gard for my sex, to find a woman who can write thus 
of a rival, and such a one as Robin Holmes, is, in 
these days, a rarity.” 

Mr. Gregory did not reply. He was looking at 
Florence in that abstracted manner which he had of 
late when regarding her. He had been a frequent 
visitor at this home during the summer, to Mrs. Fair- 
fax’s great annoyance, at first, it must be confessed ; 
but since her husband so cordially approved of these 
visits, she was rather unwillingly compelled to hold 
her peace regarding them. It was something of a 
trial to Mrs. Fairfax, likewise, that Florence persisted 
in spending the summer at Burlington, spite of every 
effort to lure her to mountains or sea-side. 

“ I am perfectly healthy and happy here, mamma,” 
she said, smiling serenely; and Mrs. Fairfax rather 
reluctantly departed on her summer tour without her. 

“ It is that young Gregory, nothing else, who is 


318 


A Golden Inheritance. 


keeping her at home, yon may depend upon it,” she 
said to her husband on the eve of her departure. 
“ She is deeply interested in him, Judge Fairfax.” 

But Judge Fairfax only smiled, as he sensibly 
replied : 

“ I hope she is. It is well for her health, both of 
mind and body, that she should find an interest in 
somebody besides herself.” 

But he scarcely conceived how deep was the inter- 
est which his daughter had conceived in this young 
man. In fact, it was only a short time before that 
Florence realized it herself. She had decided long 
ago that she must never love, never marry. 

“ Such things are not for me,” she had once said 
to Bobin, in a tone of quiet sadness. “ I must bear 
my life, as it is, alone.” 

Having fully settled it in her own mind that she 
must relinquish all hopes of such happiness, she 
buried all her rosy dreams out of her sight, pressing 
over the sepulcher the hard stone of stolid endur- 
ance. Ho one but God knew the struggle and the 
weary pain which this burial had cost her. Often- 
times in those morbid days this young girl had felt 
that it would be a blessed thing to close her eyes and 
sleep the sleep that knows no waking. 

“ Anywhere, anywhere, out of the world. ” 

But all that was long ago; in the blossom-storm 
time, when she had first awoke to the fact that she 


Heart’s-ease. 


319 


must be lame all her life. Now, in these more dis- 
ciplined days, she looked at life with different eyes. 
Since she had learned to trnst Him, she had told this 
secret sorrow to God, and out of her darkness great 
light had shined. When she laid her burden at the 
feet of the loving Christ, who had suffered, she left 
it there — not for a little while only, but for all time. 
She had no wish to take it up again, and there was 
no need. Florence was a very child in the implicit- 
ness of her faith. Having rolled off her burden, she 
was conscious of a delightful sense of freedom. She 
forgot sometimes, in her exuberance of spirit, that 
she was lame. All things were rose-hued this sum- 
mer. That may have been because God had sent 
this strong friend to her, this helpful, heartsome 
Mark Gregory. Just why He had seen fit to let the 
golden treasure of this man’s tender love fall into 
the weary life of lame Floy is not for us to say. 
Perhaps it was because of her great faith. More 
things are wrought by prayer than this world 
dreams of. 

Be that as it may, the unerring eye, which is upon 
all His people, saw that this tender plant had need 
of the sun, and sent it, not sparingly, but with 
gracious hand, in broad beams, surrounding and 
wrapping it all about. And Mark Gregory, looking 
into these soul-lit eyes which shone blue and loving 
through the August twilight of this particular day, 
saw there a revelation — a revelation which flashed 


320 A Golden Inheritance. 

with noon-day light across his understanding, making 
him forget that this dainty girl w T as daughter of 
the proudest family in all Burlington * making him 
forget that he was Mark Gregory, once only a cash- 
hoy, now only a bank cashier, a man who had strug- 
gled to his present position through seas of want and 
poverty- and difficulty, through a hand-to-hand con- 
test with sharp edges of which she had no concep- 
tion ; making him remember only that he loved her 
unspeakably, and the heart which he had to offer her 
w r as pure and true and wide as the ocean. 

And this was what he told her, there in the fading 
light, with the air full of summer sweetness, and 
musical with songs of sleepy birds. And Florence ? 
Ah, it was the old story. The answering of an un- 
spoken prayer. She stood in awe before her great 
happiness. In her humility she had not expected 
that God would deem her worthy of this man’s love. 
Indeed, she had scarcely given the longing shape in 
her heart. She had been content to leave her des- 
tiny in God’s hands, and now that he had thus glori- 
fied her opening womanhood, she could only lift her 
eyes, radiant with gratitude, to the hills from whence 
this good and perfect gift had come. 

Three days after that, soon after the arrival of the 
morning mail, Judge Fairfax presented himself to his 
wife upon the piazza of their sea-side hotel, with an 
open letter in his hand, and a very peculiar smile 
under his gray mustache. 


Heart’s-ease. 


321 


Mrs. Fairfax was used to surprises in those days, 
therefore she more readily interpreted the expression 
upon her husband’s face as the forerunner of some- 
thing unpleasant. She snatched the letter with some 
degree of haste and trepidation. .Running her eyes 
hastily down the page, her dark cheeks flushed rose- 
red, and her proud lips took a scornful curve. 

“Well, Judge Fairfax, for presumption and assur- 
ance, this Mark Gregory is A number one ! ” 

“I am not so sure of that,” said her husband, 
quietly; “he strikes me rather as a man of honest 
courage and admirable common sense.” 

“ Humph ! Then you regard it as common sense 
in a conceited young upstart to march boldly to the 
front and demand of you the small gift of your 
daughter! your heiress, too, recollect; do not allow 
your magnanimity to make you lose sight of so 
important a fact as that. Common sense, indeed ! I 
consider it outrageous impertinence — a mere taking 
advantage of the poor child’s misfortune.” 

“My dear,” said Judge Fairfax, gravely, “suppose 
you take off the spectacles of your prejudice, and 
look at the matter with sensible eyes. This young 
man is honest, straightforward, intelligent, clean- 
handed, strong-hearted. In his business he is wholly 
efficient, in his home-life and society highly beloved 
and esteemed. He is a man of a thousand, as regards 
strict integrity and good habits.” 

“How did you become so thoroughly acquainted 
21 


322 A Golden Inhekitance. 

with him as to discern all this?” asked the lady, 
sarcastically. 

“ By making the most careful inquiries concerning 
him and watching him closely when he was totally 
unaware of my scrutiny. Did you suppose that I 
was trusting my pearl into the hands of a smuggler, 
my child in the society of a man who did not possess 
these characteristics ? Not, however, that I had any 
idea how deeply she had become involved. But 
since the result is this, I see no reason for refusing 
my consent to the arrangement. He is thoroughly 
honorable and he loves the child.” 

u However, you may as well acknowledge that if 
Floy had not met with that accident, if she were as 
she used to be, you would have looked upon this 
fellow’s proposal with contempt,” said Mrs. Fairfax, 
bitterly. “ At any rate, I shall withhold my consent 
utterly. I have no wish to be linked to the ‘ common 
herd ’ through my daughter’s marriage.” 

“ Excuse me, my dear, you are grossly mistaken as 
regards Mr. Gregory’s ancestry. Perhaps it would 
be as well to give some consideration to facts before 
jumping at conclusions. His father was Halstead 
Gregory, before his failure by all odds the wealthiest 
man in Burlington. His grandfather, the late Sena- 
tor Gregory, of Massachusetts, was, in every sense of 
the word, great. But had none of these facts existed, 
I should have still looked favorably upon Mark 
Gregory. Any young man who can present a char- 


Heart’ s-ease. 


323 


acter so strong and nnsnllied in these days, I con- 
sider nothing short of a nobleman, from whatever 
source he may have sprung. It is character that 
tells, not blood.” 

“ That all sounds well enough,” pursued Mrs. 
Fairfax, somewhat mollified, however, by this view 
of the young man’s antecedents. “ But what are his 
present means of support? What kind of a home 
has he to offer to our delicately-bred child ? Florence 
is too rare a plant to thrive in poor soil.” 

“ Poor soil ! Ah, my dear, love and contentment 
will afford a far richer soil than abundant wealth 
could procure. She has thriven but poorly in our 
care during the past three years. That which I 
particularly desire for the child is happiness, and, 
unless I greatly mistake, she will find it with this 
hero of hers.” 

Mrs. Fairfax sighed. What a different future 
from that which she had desired for poor Floy! 
What a vexing, disappointing world it was ! 

“Well,” she said, at length, in a peevish tone, 
“ have it your own way, Judge Fairfax. Nothing is 
as I will have it any more. Life has ceased to afford 
me any satisfaction in these latter days. The only 
consoling thought which I can find in the matter is 
that this wonderful Mark Gregory is rather good- 
looking.” 


324 


A Golden Inheritance. 


XXXI. 

GOLDEN GLIMMERS. 

“ What is this that .thou hast been fretting and lamenting and 
self-tormenting on account of? Is it because thou art not happy? 
Foolish soul I What act of legislature was there that thou shouldst 
be happy? There is in man a higher than happiness; he can do 
without happiness, and instead thereof find blessedness.” 

" rnHIS ere’s the curiosest world I ever did see ! ” 
_L quoth little Mat. 

She was rolling the baby back and forth in his lace- 
canopied perambulator, and discoursing to him in her 
philosophical way. Perhaps he did not thoroughly 
understand, but it was just as well if he did not, Mat 
thought. She must talk to somebody. If there 
were no other ear within reach she talked to herself. 
Baby, moreover, was a good listener. He allowed 
her perfect freedom of speech, responding only by 
an occasional “ goo-goo,” which Mat interpreted as an 
entire coincidence with her views. 

“ I’m sure I don’t know what’s goin’ to happen,” 
she pursued, fixing her round gray eyes upon the sea, 
reflectively. “ Mis’ Hunt haint said a cross word, as 
I know of, since we come here. Taint nothin’ ’bout 
the place, I guess. Taint no great shakes, no how. 
Cleveland’s a heap prettier, full up chuck with great 
big stores and red glass things in the winders that 


Golden Glimmers. 


325 


shines like moons when the lights is lit. May be there 
be some of ’em here, but I liaint seen ’em yet. But 
somethin’ ’ruther’s got into Mis’ Hunt sure. Hope 
she haint goin’ to die nor nothin’ ; folks often does 
when they gets too good, leastways children does, 
don’t know ’bout big folks. I’d try bein’ good myself 
if I wasn’t ’fraid o’ dyin’ with dipthery or somethin’, 
like the girl in the book Miss Hobin gin me.” 

The words came to Hobin, who lay upon a sofa just 
inside the window. She pushed the blind open and 
looked out, with a low laugh. 

“ I have no apprehensions of your immediate trans- 
lation, if your goodness is to be the moving cause, 
Mat,” she said. 

Mat turned her gray eyes, nothing abashed. 

“ Lawks, Miss Hobin, I didn’t know as you liearn 
me ! I was only tellin’ Baby ’bout the little girl in 
my new book. There ! if I didn’t come as near as a 
hair of forgittin! Mr. Hunt give me three letters for 
you ’fore he went to the scursion, an’ I like to never 
thought of ’em agin. Here they be,” diving into 
her pocket and bringing them out, “ big fat ones, all 
of ’em.” 

Hobin seized them, joyfully. The “ fattest” one, 
in the pink envelope, was from Florence. The one 
in the large square envelope was post-marked Boston, 
that must be from Miss Gladstone. The other — 
Bobin’s eyes drooped and a beautiful color stole into 
Jier cheeks — no other hand but Evert Hussel’s ever 


326 


A Golden Inheritance. 


penned that bold, clear inscription. He had not writ- 
ten to her before. Indeed, she did not remember that 
he had ever written her a letter before, since the days 
when he used to slip the most wonderful specimens 
of school-boy effusions between the leaves of her his- 
tory. For some reason, those old, friendly relations 
between herself and Evert Hussel had ceased to exist. 
Since the morning when he had sounded his warning 
against the course she was pursuing, their paths had 
seemed to diverge, until of late they were as compar- 
ative strangers. Since her idle life began, however, 
he had been much in her thoughts. It was a source 
of great pain that she had lost this old friend out of 
her life. A month ago she would have charged Philip 
Fairfax with the loss, as she was in the habit of charg- 
ing him with all her grievances ; but in these mid- 
summer days Pobin was growing healthy. Her face 
was rounding out, and her eyes were losing their mel- 
ancholy, and the dimples were beginning to show at 
her wrists again. She was likewise increasing in soul 
health. Constant companionship with sweet, sensible 
Lottie Gladstone could not fail to be strengthening. 

o o 

With her strong Christian influence and her brave 
common sense, she had led this morbid soul out of its 
.depths of discouragement into the sun-lit plains of 
hope. Iiobin was losing her restless, impatient, self- 
tormenting will in that divine Will which had so long 
been reaching itself out to her in vain. 

The sight of this familiar handwriting to-day sent 


Golden Glimmees. 


327 


her pulses bounding with pleasure. She did not open 
this letter with eager haste, as she did the others. She 
was strangely reluctant to open it at all. The simple 
assurance that all remembrance of her had not died 
out of the heart of this writer was sweet. 

She read Floy’s epistle first. There were eight 
pages, filled, of course, with nothing but her wonder- 
ful Mark, from the beginning to the end. Robin’s 
smile was very tender as she laid this letter aside. 

“ The shy, wild violet ! ” she said. “ Did any one 
ever behold such humility ! Mark Gregory is the 
only man in the world wdio is worthy of her.” 

Miss Gladstone’s letter was like herself, fragrant 
with perfect health and happiness. There was not 
a breath of morbid sentimentalism or unkind feeling 
about any thing which this woman ever said or 
wrote. 

Robin’s spirit rose as she read. Over the closing 
paragraph, her eyes lingered. 

“ One lesson, Robin, we must all learn : not to 
expect too much of human nature. The wisest and 
strongest appear weak and foolish when we look at 
them from too high a stand-point. We are of the 
earth, earthy, and such we must remain while we 
tabernacle in the flesh. It is not until we stand re- 
vealed in the light of a better life that we shall know 
as we are known.” 

Robin folded the letter up. thoughtfully, replaced 
it in its envelope and wrote in pencil on the back of 


328 


A Golden Inheritance. 


it : “ Sweet Lottie Gladstone : and you will devote 
your queenly life in ministering to the caprices of a 
man who is not worthy to unloose your shoe’s 
latchet! Ah, well, God knows why, and in time, 
after long exposure to such an influence, even Philip 
Fairfax may And his soul.” 

She had read both the “ fat ” letters carefully ; 
there was, therefore, no longer any excuse for 
delaying the perusal of the other one, which she 
still held unopened. She drew it from the enve- 
lope with an unaccountable flutter at her heart. It 
was short, only a sheet, boldly and clearly written, 
but it contained a vast volume to Eobin. She read 
it over once, twice, thrice ; then she got up slowly 
and went out into the sunshine. Life was sweet and 
God w r as over all his works. 

“ Father in heaven, I thank thee that thou hast had 
thy way,” she said, fervently, lifting her eyes from 
the dancing waves to the blue, summer sky. 

It was an exquisite afternoon. The edge of the 
sky where it touched the sea shone with a soft rose 
light. Eobin wandered to the water’s edge, swinging 
her hat by its ribbons. A fisherman’s boy was fasten- 
ing his boat a little way off. At the sight of it, a wild 
desire seized her to be out upon the tossing waves. 

“Will you let me take your boat for a little 
while ? ” she asked, approaching him. 

The boy stared at her with open-mouthed aston- 
ishment. 


Golden Glimmers. 


329 


“ What for ? ” he added, frankly. 

“ I want to take a little row. I’ll be back in half 
an hour.” 

“ Did you mean to go alone ? ” 

“ Certainly, I’ve been hundreds of times.” 

“ Can you row first-rate, miss ? ” 

“ Of course,” impatiently. “ Will you let me take 
the boat ? ” 

“ Yes, I ’spose so, but I don’t like to much. ’Taint 
a good time to go rowin’. The tide’s coinin’ in. 
Sposen you should git drownded.” 

“I do not apprehend any danger,” said Robin, 
springing into the boat and seizing the oars. 

The boy watched her in some admiration as with 
a few strong, easy strokes she sent the little craft 
rocking and tossing out upon the waves. 

“ La, now, that’s purty/ he said. 

Pretty, indeed, it was ; the fearless graceful girl, 
with her dark curls blowing away from her eager 
face and a lovely color rising in her cheeks. She 
handled the oars as one long used to the art. It was, 
however, comparatively new to her. She did not 
remember to have ever been in a row-boat in her 
life until this summer. But Robin was an apt scholar 
in all arts of this kind, and after a week’s drill she 
could row with the dexterity of an adept. 

To day she enjoyed it exceedingly. The exercise 
stimulated her. The rushing, rocking motion of the 
boat over the water roused her spirits and sent the 


330 


A Golden Inheritance. 


life-blood bounding through her veins. How good 
it was to be alive to day ! 

On, on she went, each vigorous, sweeping stroke of 
the oars sending the boat farther and farther from 
land, forgetting, in her happy absorption, that the 
tide was rising and she must be back in half an hour. 

At length, however, the tension gave way and she 
dropped her oars, breathless and exhausted. Then 
first she looked about her and a sudden, sharp fear 
darted through her. Out of sight of land she cer- 
tainly was, for a dense mist had begun to gather over 
the waters and she could scarcely see ten rods ahead 
of her. 

“ How very foolish ! ” she exclaimed. “ Will I 
never learn wisdom ? ” 

The weather had changed, that was evident. In 
the excitement and exercise of rowing she had taken 
no note of it, but now she began to feel uncomfort- 
ably cool in her thin dress. The fog seemed to be 
thickening about her. It must be late in the after- 
noon. She had not noticed the time when she 
started, but she remembered that the sun was be- 
ginning to shine low, almost dipping into the ocean, 
while she was talking to the boy on shore. Night 
would soon be sweeping down upon the sea, starless 
and black. 

“ At any rate, I must turn about,” she said aloud ; 
“the tide is going in, and perhaps I shall drift in 
with it.” 


Golden Glimmers. 


331 


But liere a new difficulty arose. Bowing against 
wind and tide was not easy, and Kobin found, to lier 
dismay, that her strength had deserted her, besides, 
the waves, which had rocked her so gently on the 
outward-bound course, now rolled in great billows, 
tossing the little boat upon their crests as if it had 
been a sea-shell. 

Bobin was naturally fearless, but in the face of 
this peril she grew weak as an infant. She had 
neither skill nor experience to direct her boat land- 
ward through fog and breakers. In utter despair 
and affright, she dropped her oars and drifted help- 
lessly. Would her little boat be overturned on one 
of these mighty billows, or would she drift far out 
at sea and be drawn under some ocean steamer to be 
sent down, down, down into blackness of darkness? 
Ah, life was so sweet! She had so much to live 
for. 

“ God knows ! ” she cried. 

Ah, God did know. She took up her oars again 
and bent all her strength to the effort. God knew 
that she was helpless ; he knew that she was alone ; 
he knew that she 'was afraid. His eye was watching 
her in loving tenderness. He was holding the waters 
in the hollow of his hand. The remembrance of 
him struck all the terror out of her heart. She fairly 
laughed in her joy at the sudden rebound to hope. 
A child in her Father’s hands she was safe, and she 
rowed ahead, cheerily singing as she went. 


332 


A Golden Inheritance. 


Meantime, Mat, at home, was in great commotion. 
A tall gentleman liad arrived, asking for Miss Robin. 
Miss Robin could not be found anywhere ; and Mr. 
and Mrs. Hunt had gone several miles away on a fish- 
ing excursion, and would not be home until dark. 
Bridget was in one of her Grossest moods, and baby, 
as it 1 grew nearer night, was growing very fretful. 
Mat was at her wit’s ends. It didn’t seem right to 
leave that nice gentleman sitting there all alone. If 
Bridget would only take the baby for a few moments 
and let her go in search of Miss Robin ; but Bridget 
wouldn’t, and that was the end of it. At last a 
bright idea found its way through Mat’s tangled 
hair. Taking baby in her arms, she stole softly into 
the room where the gentleman was sitting with his 
paper in his hands. 

‘■If you please sir,” said Mat, as respectfully as 
she knew how, “ if you’d only keep baby a minute, 
I’ll find Miss Robin for ye.” 

The young man looked up with a laugh. Baby 
tending was a new business to him ; but this was 
Ralph Hunt’s baby, and, therefore, of a neces- 
sity decidedly superior to the general order of 
babies. 

He held out his arms with a coaxing word, and the 
little one sprang into them. 

Mat, having got rid of her charge at last, w T as off 
like the wind. All along shore she ran, but no sight 
of Robin. A boy was standing at the water’s edge, 


Golden Glimmers. 


333 


looking seaward, with some anxiety depicted upon 
his stolid features. 

“Ye haven’t seen nothin’ o’ Miss Eobin, have 
yer? ” demanded Mat, twitching his sleeve. 

“'Miss Eobin? is she the young lady as went off 
with my boat ? ” 

Mat’s eyes opened wide. 

“ She didn’t, now, did she ? ” 

“ What for a lookin’ creature is she, your Miss 
Eobin?” 

“ Ah, purty as a picter ; big eyes and curly hair, 
and—” . 

“ Did she have on a white dress with a red flower 
in her belt ? ” 

“ Yes, that’s her.” 

“Well, then, it’s most likely she’s drownded,” said 
the boy, bluntly. “ She w r ould go out, and the tide 
was risin’, and this fog’s come up, and she’ll never 
git ashore in her life. I told her so, but she wouldn’t 
hear to nothin’. You’d better go up and tell yer 
folks as quick as yer can, and if they want to ever 
see her again they’d better be a-lookin’ after her, and 
mighty quick, too.” 


334 


A Golden Inheritance. 


XXXII. 

ROBIN’S INHERITANCE. 

“ Its ivory walls are bonnie, 

Upon which the rainbows shine, 

And its Eden bowers are trellised 
Wi’ a never fadin’ vine. 

An’ the pearly gates o’ the heaven do 
A glorious radiance fling 
On the starry floor that shimmers 
I’ the palace o’ the King.” 

(i HAKES alive !” Mat Lad been staring at tbe boy 
kj with open mouth and dilating eyes. “D’ye 
mean it, now, or air ye givin’ me taff % ” 

“ I’m givio’ you nothin’ but the truth and the hull 
truth as far as I know, and you’d better be off if yer 
want to see your Miss Robin alive.” 

Mat looked at him an instant with piercing eyes, 
then, having become convinced of his statement, she 
turned and shot in a straight line for the house as 
fast as her stubby feet could carry her. Into the 
parlor she dashed, pale and breathless, 

“ She’s drownded,” she gasped. 

Evert Russel set the baby down and stared at 
her, growing white about the lips. 

“ What do you mean ? ” he asked, in a suppressed 
voice. 


.Robin’s Inheritance. 


335 


“ Well, I don’t know what,” began Wat, the words 
knocking against each other as they tumbled with 
eager haste from her lips. “ The boy, down there 
on the coast, he said as how she’d gone olf in a boat, 
and got upsot, and if you wanted her you’d better go 
after her and — ” 

But Mat was left to finish her narration to the 
baby and the walls, for the tall gentleman had sprung 
past her with a bound, and - was striding down to the 
beach with long steps. The boy, still standing where 
Mat had left him, watched his approach with pleasur- 
able emotions. An occasion of this kind could not 
fail to be interesting to him, since it must of neces- 
sity render him conspicuous and important. 

Evert Bussel, however, did not stop to parley. 

“ Tell me the story which you told the child in as 
few words as possible,” he said. 

“Well, sir, all I know is that the young lady was 
round here when I hove in, ’bout three quarters of 
an hour ago, and she asked me to let her take my 
boat and I let her, and that’s the last I’ve seen or 
heard of her. Don’t see how she can ever row her- 
self in against wind and tide. Ye can see how the 
waves is. I wouldn’t like to be out myself in such a 
sea as that.” 

“ Is there a boat about here which you can get for 
me ? ” 

“Yes, there’s Jack Moore’s I might git, I s’pose.” 

“ Get it, then, without a moment’s delay.” 


336 


A Golden Inheritance. 


The lad needed no second bidding. 

“ D’ye tliink ye can weather it, sir ? ” he asked, 
looking doubtfully across the turbulent water, as he 
drew up the boat. 

“ Certainly, I am an experienced oarsman. I have 
won several boat-races. Now, point out, as near as 
you can, the direction which the young lady took.” 

66 Bless your heart, sir, that wouldn’t make a mite 
o’ difference in such a sea as this. She’s as like as 
not to turn around a dozen times. You’ve got nothin’ 
to depend on but luck.” 

Evert Russel smiled, gently. He had a far higher 
dependence. Had it not been for this remembrance 
his heart would have sunk indeed. He soon dis- 
covered that it was no light task which he had un- 
dertaken. Still he was strong of limb and stout 
of heart. At another time he would greatly have 
enjoyed this baffling with wind and wave, but at this 
moment, with the thought of Robin’s peril pressing 
him sore, life was a blank and enjoyment a myth. 
He had realized at that other time, last spring, when 
her life hung by a thread, what she was to him, and 
what life would be without her, therefore it did not 
need this test to force that fact upon his compre- 
hension. 

Robin in danger ! Robin alone and helpless amid 
these perilous waves ! The thought spurred him to 
strong endeavor ; still the finding her in such a scene 
as this looked hopelessly hopeless. 


Robin’s Inheritance. 


33 1 

The sun had gone and it was growing dark. Ilis 
boat lunged and tossed so frightfully that he made 
but little headway. 

It seemed to him that he had been hours and hours 
upon the water, when his strained ear caught a sound 
that caused his heart to leap. It was the sound of 
singing. That exquisite voice ! ah, he was familiar 
with its every cadence and swell ! It was the sweet- 
est of all earthly music to him. He stopped rowing 
for a moment, holding his breath that he might catch 
the words : 


“ Plenteous grace with thee is found, 

Grace to cover all my sin : 

Let the healing streams abound; 

Make and keep me pure within. 

Thou of life the fountain art, 

Freely let me take of thee : 

Spring thou up within my heart, 

Rise to all eternity.” 

“ Saved, thank God ! ” he exclaimed. 

Saved, indeed, not alone from the perils of the 
world. Something in the hearty tone of the singing 
impressed this truly upon him. She had found her 
inheritance at last — a golden inheritance which would 
shine brighter and brighter unto the perfect day. 

“ Robin,” he called, unable to keep the ring of joy 
out of his voice. But she sang on. She had not 
heard him. He rowed forward with long-swinging 
strokes. He had caught sight of her at last, wet 

and tired, but unalarmed and courageous. 

22 


338 


A Golden Inheritance. 


“Well, Robin,’ 5 said Evert, rowing up alongside. 
She dropped her oars and held out her hand to him 
with her rare smile. 

“I knew God would send some one,” she said; 
“ but I did not think it would be youP 

She sprang into the boat, while he made fast the 
other. 

“ Are you sure you can find the way back ? ” she 
asked. “ It is very perplexing.” 

“ I do not apprehend any very serious difficulty if 
we can manage to keep the boat from upsetting. 
As soon as we get out of this fog a little, we shall 
begin to see the lights along the shore.” 

And so it proved. The fog was clearing away, 
somewhat, and after ten minutes’ steady rowing they 
caught the welcome glimmer of the home lights. 

“How beautiful they look through the mist!” 
cried Robin. 

“ Did you receive my letter ? ” asked her com- 
panion, irrelevantly. 

“ Yes.” 

“ And your will in the matter ? ” 

“ Is yours,” she said, simply. 

That was all. After that there was nothing to 
say. Out there, in the midst of the dashing waves, 
with those beckoning lights before them and the fog 
clearing away, these two hearts were fairly laughing 
for their great joy. 

Upon the shore an anxious group awaited them. 


Robin’s Inheritance. 


339 


Lulu, white as the sea-foam, paced back and forth, 
restlessly. Ralph Hunt’s face w T as set and stern as 
he gazed across the angry waters. But little Mat, 
peering through the mist with sharp, eager eyes, gave 
a sudden jump and whoop. 

“ Here they be ! Big as life, both of ’em ! ” she 
cried, clapping her hands above her tow head, and in 
another moment they were all laughing and crying 
together on land. 

“ I never before fully realized the blessedness of 
terra firma ,” said Robin, shaking the salt drops from 
her hair. 

“.An hour’s tossing in such a sea as that would be 
an experience likely to convince most any one that 
mother earth isn’t such a bad place, after all,” laughed 
her brother. 

“Well, well,” said Lulu, sharply, “don’t stop to 
talk about it now. She may have caught her death 
as it is.” 

“No danger of cold from salt water, Lu,” said 
Robin, “ it is strengthening.” 

“You do look strong, Robin,” said Ralph. Robin 
did not answer. The strength which she had found 
in her danger was beyond power of words just 
then. 

An hour later the clouds and the mist had rolled 
away, and the moon came sailing up grandly over 
the ocean, while the stars flashed down their jeweled 
light, loving and tender as the eyes of the blest. The 


340 


A Golden Inheritance. 


waves tossed gently and peacefully now as the breath 
of a sleeping infant. There was a great calm over 
the sea. 

“ Who would think,” said Robin, watching the 
tender ripples over which the moon’s track cast a 
glittering sheen, as if great handfuls of diamonds had 
been tossed into the lap of old ocean, “ who would 
ever imagine that this still, smiling water is the same 
wild Atlantic which lashed itself with such a fury 
only an hour ago ! ” 

“ It’s an emblem of life, Robin,” smiled Evert. 

“ It is, indeed. Never was a titter one ; of my 
own especially. All this year — why, indeed, ever 
since I lost my inheritance — I have been in a state 
of unrest like that of the sea, but since I have re- 
ceived the better inheritance the storm has become a 
calm.” 

“ Don’t expect too much of life, Robin,” remarked 
her friend, gravely. 

“ I don’t,” she replied, soberly. “ I have learned 
that lesson thoroughly. But, nevertheless, the storm 
is a calm, and I trust I am now heir ; to an inheritance 
incorruptible, and undefiled, and that fadetli not 
away.’ ” 


THE END 








































































































































































































































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